City of Life
by KittyThomas
Summary: Set several years after the events of "Heavenly Fire". Clary and Jace move into the old Herondale Manor, starting a new life together. Although all seems peaceful in their world, shadows are stirring... Usual pairings apply. (re-boot of old fic)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I just finished reading "City of Heavenly Fire" and decided to republish this old fic to match up to the end of the series (hopefully the sequel won't alter this!)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, wouldn't want to. Cassandra Clare is doing a wonderful job by herself!**

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Home

Shortly after their marriage, they moved into the Herondale Manor. It seemed a really strange idea to them at first, move into the house that had once belonged to the Inquisitor, but it belonged to Jace by law.

They had put it off for several years, saying they didn't have time to do it up, that it was too big for just the two of them, that they were too busy and happy to live at the Institute with the rest of their friends. Clary wanted to be closer to her family, too, and Jace didn't like the idea of living in Idris permanently, especially with Alec living with Magnus in New York.

Then Simon and Isabelle moved out of the Institute into an apartment in Alicante, and Magnus and Alec went on an extended vacation, and with the wedding on the horizon it just seemed to be the right time for a fresh start.

The manor had been deserted for several years when they took possession of it, but it was in immaculate condition. Evidentially it had been cleaned regularly despite the absence of an owner. It was a cold, clinical place, everything flat and lined and organised. Aside from the odd painting, the walls were completely bare. Clary wondered, when she first saw it, if Jace's obsession with keeping things neat was genetic.

There was nothing in the house to show that dozens of people, generations of Herondales, had lived in it before them. There were no portraits of them, no reminders of their presence. It was impossible to tell from the many bedrooms which had belonged, at one point, to Stephen Herondale.

Jace left it to Clary to sort out which room was theirs. She chose the one at the top of the house, facing the canal, affording both a view of the beautiful glass towers of Alicante and a glimmer of the country around. She liked to see the city. It reminded her of New York, but without the constant whir of noise and the smell of hot dogs and cold heat.

Jace hadn't liked the house at first. After unpacking his few belongings, he spent all his few time in the small library, re-arranging bookshelves. It was the only room in the house that felt remotely full. There was life in the smell of old paper, memories that didn't scar or sting. In the evenings, rather than attempt to curl up on the stiff, uncomfortable sofas in the living room, he and Clary would sit in the library, right by the heath, with the glow of the fireside flickering against their books as they were drawn in, away from the world. He found a new meaning to the word "home". Home was wherever Clary happened to be.

Yet, it wasn't long before the rest of the house started to feel like home as well. Every time he left the library, Clary had transformed some part of the house. She re-arranged furniture constantly. She brought new paintings, put up her own. Many days Luke and Jocelyn would come over, baring gifts of books and artwork. Luke spent many an hour with Jace in his library, trading books and discussing literature.

One day Jace crept out of his den and found that the upstairs landing had become a forest. Clary and Jocelyn had painted a magnificent mural. The walls were covered in the dark, shady outlines of trees, and the background swirled with the colours of sunset. Burnt orange and frosty pink, ribbons of blue and purple, a faint shimmering of stars. Jace could only stare at the concentration in Clary's face as she applied a final lick of her brush.

Jocelyn laughed when her daughter finally clapped her hands and stood back to admire their work.

"Done!" she said triumphantly, and Jocelyn ruffled her hair and gave her a squeeze.

Before Jace could interrupt them, somebody small rushed passed his legs, zooming at the top of her lungs and running straight for Jocelyn.

"Mommy!" she screamed, trailing a long piece of white paper behind her like a flag, "Look what I drew!"

The child ran straight into her mother, brown curls bouncing, green eyes glistening, and held up her painting proudly. Jace supposed it was supposed to be a picture of the night sky, although it looked more like a ink spillage with blobs of white in it. Felicity, it appeared, did not take after her mother or sister.

"It's beautiful, baby!" Jocelyn exclaimed, crouching down to give her daughter a rewarding pat. Jace still thought it was skilful how parents could lie so easily to their children to make them happier.

Felicity Fairchild Greymark was five years old, born one year after her parent's marriage. She looked a lot like Clary did as a child, but with Luke's colouring and distinct absence of freckles. Clary loved her only second to Jace. She had been a huge surprise, a late addition to her family, but one of the primary reasons she'd put off moving to Idris for so long. She wanted to be a part of her life.

Clary grinned and gave her little sister a tight squeeze from behind. "Well done, Fleecy."

When Felicity had first started to talk (at a very early age, and at great length) she had found it very difficult to say her own name. Fleecy had been the result. Clary thought it was adorable -to be fair, she thought everything the little girl did was adorable. Jace thought it made her sound like an item of clothing.

Luke came up the corridor behind him and swung his daughter into his arms. "Come here, you little pup..."

Felicity began to squeal with delight as he wrestled her into his arms, flinging her carefully over his shoulder. "No, Daddy, nooo!" she giggled.

Jace sometimes wondered if Clary was ever jealous of her sister, the way that other siblings often were. She was, after all, Luke's actual daughter, and no one loved that child more than him. Every time he looked at her, his eyes seemed to swell with joy. Possibly because he still saw her as his miracle, born without the werewolf gene, or maybe because she was the child he shared with the woman he had loved is entire life.

Then again, Jace thought, as Luke turned his gaze towards Clary, she wasn't the only child.

"Sorry dear, she escaped from under my radar. Are you done? Wow," he said, noticing the design for the first time. "This is amazing."

"Thanks, Luke." Clary turned as Luke leaned in to give Jocelyn a quick kiss (causing Felicity to squeal with indignation, cover her eyes, and say "Yuck!" very loudly.) "Hey," she said. "Do you-"

"It's great."

Clary put her hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes. Her freckled arms and cheeks were splattered with paint, her wild red curls easing out of her ponytail. There was only so angry she could be, when she looked at him like that.

"Great?" she asked him, questionably.

Jace knew that tone. It was the "take-that-back-and-try-better" tone, with "quickly" in the subtext.

"It's beautiful, Clary." He knew by the softened look in her eyes that she knew he meant it, but he wasn't just talking about her work. He was talking about her.

"You like it?"

"I love it."

She crept into his arms, probably smearing paint on his clothes. It was a welcome price to pay.

Jace looked at the walls, at the arched ceilings covered in branches and sunlight. He looked at the little family, Felicity wedged in the arms of her parents, and finally down at Clary.

Home, he thought, and a fleeting thought passed through him. This was all he needed, all he wanted. Nothing ever needed to change again.

And of course, something did.

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**A/N:**

**A note of Felicity's name. It really just popped into my head. It seemed to suit her, and I googled it and found it was Latin-based and meant happiness, which seemed perfect! It also has a familiar sound with "Clarissa" so it seemed like something Jocelyn might choose, and "Fleecy" is just cute... whatever Jace may think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So here we, chapter 2! Looks like things might be set to change for the Fairchild-Herondales...**

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Clary woke up in the morning with rays of sunlight splayed out on her pillow. For a moment, she just lay there in the warmth, feeling a little groggier than usual, as if she hadn't quite had the sleep she needed.

She rolled over to glance at Jace. Ever since they had started sharing a bed, the first one up had always turned over to slowly nuzzle the other one awake, but eventually this habit had subsided into merely looking at them. Several times Clary had woken to see Jace's golden eyes glittering over her, watching her with his half-smile, propped up on his arms as if he had been there awhile. Not that she could really talk, the hours in total she must have wasted, gazing at him as he slept, admiring each line and curve of his face. They had been together for so long now, she wondered if she would ever get use to his constant nearness, the warmth of his body next to hers, the breath on the back of her neck at night. She didn't think she wanted to.

She reached over to brush back a strand of his hair, as softly as she could. His eyes flickered underneath his lashes, but he did not stir. Clary smiled and wriggled out of bed, pulling on her overalls, and went downstairs to continue work on the house.

It was such a huge place, Clary wondered if she would ever be able to fill it. In their small flat in New York, Jocelyn had always complained there wasn't quite enough room. She always wanted one or two more, for a painting room, a book room, a second living space. The Herondale Manor had all of this and more, but the space still felt empty and lifeless.

Most of the rooms were still stark and bare, furnished with uncomfortable, oblong furniture, things she could easily imagine as the Inquisitor's. It was hard to believe there was ever a family living here.

_Family._

That was what the house truly lacked. Whenever Jocelyn, Luke and Fleecy were around, or the Lightwoods, or Simon or Isabelle, or any of their other Shadowhunter friends, the place was full and bright, the white walls filled with colour, the wideness evaporated. But when it was just her and Jace, the spaces seemed to expand, encasing them with their inescapable noiselessness.

Hauling another one of her mother's landscapes onto the wall, Clary convinced herself that she just needed to fill the place herself.

After about an hour of painting in one of the guest rooms, she started to feel a bit hazy- probably due to the to paint fumes or the lack of food in her. She hadn't eaten much for dinner the night before, her appetite quelled despite the exercise she gotten during the day. But now, the second she thought about eating, Clary felt a wave of hunger and headed down to the kitchens, suddenly ravenous and filled with a craving for waffles. As she pulled out all the ingredients, it occurred to her that Jace probably hadn't eaten yet.

"Jace?" she called up the stairs. "I'm making waffles. You hungry?"

There was slight rumble underneath her feet, like someone moving underground. A second later, she heard a voice.

"Clary! Come down to the basement!"

Clary rolled her eyes and headed for the door, beginning the cold, slow descent into darkness. She hated the basement, it always reminded her of the walk to the City of Bones, it was impossible not to shiver.

"There is no way," she said aloud, mostly to herself, "that anyone can make the phrase 'come down to the basement' sound un-creepy."

"I'm sorry," said Jace's voice, not far off. "But did you just call me creepy? I object. I am exceedingly un-creepy, I think you'll find. I am the very opposite of creepy. I am-"

"Obnoxious, irritating and sarcastic?"

"How about charming, witty and wonderful?"

Clary hit the last step and glanced about. The room was dim and narrow, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was easily the emptiest place in the house and filled only with dirt. The Inquisitor filed nothing away, kept no remnants of her life hidden safely away. She new that a part of Jace was disappointed when they first moved in. He wanted to know more about his history, about the parents he never knew. All he had of them was the box given to him by Amatis years ago, and her occasional story about his father Stephen. There was virtually nothing to be found about his mother.

"Jace?" Clary squinted through the darkness. "Where are you?"

"Over here, behind the bookcase."

"_Behind _the bookcase?"

Clary crept forward to a bare bookcase in the centre of the room. It was pulled forward at an angle, and swung open like a door. Behind it, in a square room lit by witchlight, was Jace crouched on the floor.

"What on-"

Clary stepped through into the next room. This was what they had expected to find when they first moved in, a lifetime's worth of _stuff. _There were boxes and suitcases all around, crammed with papers and books, letters, trinkets, bits of furniture, bottles of curious-coloured liquid. There were huge chests made of solid oak, with dozen of initials carved into the lids. _W.H, J.H, O.H S.H, M.H. _A cradle stood abandoned in one corner. Clary remembered Luke saying that Imogen Herondale and gotten rid of anything to do with her son. Evidentially, she hadn't. She'd just hidden it all away, unable to bear the sight of it but unable to destroy the only things left of his existence. Clary thought, not for the first time, how different she might have been if her daughter-in-law had survived, if she had known her grandson.

"Jace," Clary whispered, her voice light, "look at this place!"

He stood up, unfolding himself, and cast his eyes around as if it were a cave of wonders. "I know. It's something, huh?" he placed his hand on the bars on the cot. It was a beautiful thing, solid ash, with the Herondale crest moulded into the headboard. "I guess this... this might have been mine. You know, if... It would have been my father's, and his father's..."

"They really build these things to last, huh?"

Jace nodded, and dropped his hand away as if it burned him. He went back to chest he had opened on the floor. It was filled with the usual things, letters, diaries, a witchlight, a stele. A Shadowhunter's life condensed into a single box, meaningless now, to anyone who hadn't known him.

Anyone accept Jace.

Clary crouched down beside him. "Who did this belong to? Your father?"

Jace shook his head. "I'm working my way up to that. This belonged to one of his -my- ancestors. A long, long time ago." He passed Clary a letter. It was thick but fragile, fraying at the ages, yellow and stained with age. "Here."

"What's this?"

"It's a letter he wrote. In 1878, to be precise."

"That's..." Clary struggled for the appropriate word. "Quite old," she finished lamely.

Jace nodded. "There's a whole bunch of them, in here. Letters to his family. Ones he never sent. And one to a girl."

There was a strange, almost knowing smile on Jace's face, a curious tug in his lips.

"Jace? What is it?"

"I just... I just feel like I know him. These things that he writes... I could have wrote them." Clary read it carefully, drinking in each word. The contains were familiar to her, as if she had heard them before. They spoke of a hopeless love, a tragic situation, and feelings of love that she knew all too well.

"This is-" she started.

"Like the one I left you, I know."

"I was going to say sad."

"Oh."

"What happened to them?" Clary wasn't sure she wanted to know. She felt a string of attachment for this couple she had never met, kindling desire to believe it worked out. She supposed, if this Herondale was a direct descendant, life must have worked out for him, at least. She looked up at Jace, searching for an answer.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "That's all there is. One letter."

"Well, I'm going to believe there isn't any more because they found a way to be together, and didn't _have _to send each other romantic and depressing letters."

"Ever the optimist."

"Well, I do have to balance you out!" Clary smiled, and felt her stomach churn again. She'd forgotten all about food. She climbed to her feet, asked Jace if he wanted waffles as well, and headed back upstairs to make breakfast. The second they started to cook and the sweet, warm scent filled the room, the churning in her stomach magnified. This wasn't like hunger, it was more like the after effect of being punched in the gut. She felt queasy, and the smell suddenly turned bitter and sour.

She turned off the heat and bent over the kitchen sink, rocking back and forth as if the counteract the feeling of the waves crashing against the walls of her stomach. It didn't work. A minute later, she started to retch and promptly emptied last night's dinner into the basin.

She groaned as she rinsed it away, splashing her face with water and getting rid of any evidence. She wanted to see if it would happen again, but had to dash to the bathroom when the smell of the waffles intensified. She next to the toilet bowl for several minutes before she realised that despite still feeling incredibly nauseous, she had nothing left to throw up.

Clary couldn't remember the last time she was physically sick, as least without there being a demon of some kind involved, and she hadn't seen any kind of action for several weeks. No vomit-inducing stings or bites, no slow-working poisons.

Before she could dwell on it for too long, she heard Jace in the corridor.

"Clary? You in there?"

"Y-yes!" she replied quickly, hoping she didn't sound too flushed.

"What happened with the waffles? You turned them off."

"Sorry! Emergency bathroom trip!"

"Ah," said Jace wisely. "That time of the month, is it? I'll er... go finish breakfast."

She heard his footsteps disappear down the hall.

_No,_ Clary thought, a fear as quick as electricity shooting through her. If she was a character in an anime, she could imagine her whole body immediately going grey and blank, her eyes replaced by circle stares. _And it hasn't been "that time of the month" for quite some time..._

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**A/N: So... yeah! What do you think about THAT! What's going to happen next? Best review or you may never find out... Mwahaha!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here we go! Chapter 3, as promised! !**

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**Chapter Three**

Although Simon still kept a small place in New York (he had to have somewhere his mother could visit him) Alicante was now his primary residence. He shared a small and cosy apartment with Isabelle. It was a hodgepodge of the two of them, guitars and katanas, vintage posters and hot-pink bedspreads. It even -unlike the majority of the houses in Idris- had a television. There was no reception, but it was still wired up to a DVD player and Clary was always coming over to marathon their favourite shows.

He opened the door to her, grinning, it was the same smile he had worn six years ago. He was broader than he'd been as a teenager, tightly-packed muscle that Clary could never have imagined on the gangly friend of hers from St. Xavier's. But Simon was a Shadowhunter, now, had had the physique to go with it.

"Well good morning, _parabatai,_" he said.

It was one of the first things they had done after Simon decided to train as a Shadowhunter, after his memories returned, after every part of Clary bubbled back to the service. Somebody had mentioned the word while they were both in the room, and suddenly this once impossible possibility gleamed into view. They had suggested it at exactly the same time.

Clary smiled and launched herself into arms with such force that even Simon, with his sturdy strength, staggered back a little. She held him tightly, surprised at her own longing. She hadn't realised how much she wanted to see him.

"Well, why don't you come on in..."

Clary realised she'd been clinging to him perhaps a little longer than necessary. Simon dropped her back on her feet and she immediately preceded to strip off her coat and scarf and dumped them on his sofa before flinging herself over the cushions.

"Isabelle in?" she asked.

"Nah, she's visiting her Mom. Come for your latest fix of junk food and old SciFi shows?"

"Come for my latest fix of Simon Lewis, actually."

Simon grinned, handing her a cup of coffee, and jumped up on the other end of the sofa so that their legs slotted together. Clary savoured the warmth of the hot, brown liquid and the thick aroma, but didn't raise it to her lips.

"How's things in Manor?" he asked. "Jace treating you well?"

"Things are good there, thanks," said Clary, with a look. Simon and Jace actually got on rather well these days. "And here? How are you and Isabelle?"

"You saw the pink bedspreads, right?"

"Yeah..."

"What dude allows hot pink bedspreads unless things are going well?"

"Simon-"

"Like, really, _really _well..."

"Yeah, great, thanks for that visual image."

"You are welcome. To be honest, it's nice to be alone for a change. I just bought this new Assassin's Creed game, and it's awesome. I've been thinking about doing an AC social with some of the academy Shadowhunters, what do you think? Thought we could bring in some of the downworlders, too-"

"Simon-"

"Of course, I'm a bit worried that if Magnus gets involved, he may have people running through the rooftops of New York dressed as Italian Prostitutes. Not-" he gave Clary a wicked smile, "the worst of things that could happen."

"Simon-"

"Unless, of course, he dressed up himself. _That _I could live without. But you have to admit, donning a white robe and running up buildings? Pretty sweet."

"Simon, stop talking about video games_for just one moment!"_

Clary snapped to her feet. Her words seemed to reach out and throttle him into silence. She could see his eyes searching her face, looking at her properly for the first time since she'd arrived.

"Clary," he said quietly, concern rising in his voice. "Are you... is everything all right?"

"No," Clarly said softly. "It isn't. And I don't really think I can talk to anyone else about it. I don't think I _want _to talk to anyone else about it. I definitely can't talk to Mom about this, and Isabelle would never be able to-"

"Just tell me what it is. Please."

"Simon..." Clary's voice caught on his name. "Simon, I'm... I'm _pregnant, _all right?"

Simon's face went as blank as if someone had simply wiped his features away.

"I see," he said eventually.

"You_see_? Gee, thanks for the support Simon."

"I take it this wasn't-"

"Planned. No."

"And Jace-"

"Jace doesn't know. I'm not sure I want him to know-"

"Might be wrong," Simon said placidly, "but it strikes me as the sort of thing he's bound to notice at some point."

"Simon!"

"Sorry. Just... just tell me what you want me to do, all right? I'll do whatever you want."

Clary sighed, collapsing back on the couch. She was pushing back tears, desperate not to cry, because right now that's exactly what she wanted to do. Curl up and weep until everything was laid out clearly around her and it became obvious what she needed to do. It was impossible. Her thoughts were a mess. She had only known for a few days, for sure, what was happening to her, but she hadn't been able to acknowledge it, untangle her feelings into any presentable state. It had been hard enough just to tell Simon. She hadn't thought passed that.

"I... I don't know what _I _want to do." She clenched her hands into fists.

"And... you're sure, right? This isn't just one of those false-positive things?"

Clary fixed Simon with a cold glare. "I took... a test. A few days ago."

"Shadowhunters have those?"

"_Yes, Simon._"

"Sorry. I'm being wildly unhelpful, aren't I?"

"Just a bit." Clary pulled up her legs to her chest and hugged them closely, leaning on her knees.

"Careful!" said Simon abruptly.

Clary unfolded as if she'd split hot coffee down herself. "What is it?"

"I just thought..." Simon eased back into the cushions, looking foolish. "You might, you know, bruise the baby..."

_The baby. _The word had barely crossed her mind. It was hard to associate the constant feeling of nausea wriggling in her stomach with anything alive. Of course, she knew that's what it meant, but she had barely had time to process the thought that she had a baby inside her. _Her _baby, and Jace's...

"The... the baby's probably the size of a peanut right now, Simon." Clary said, the word still running around in her mind like a model train. "I don't think it's fussed."

"I know. It was stupid. Hey, Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask... what are you scared of?"

Clary had spent the last few days trying to answer that question herself. It wasn't just that this wasn't planned, that she had Jace had never talked about children, that she'd barely even put any serious thought into being a mother herself. There was something more than that, something harder to explain.

"We... we never talked about kids," she said eventually.

Simon raised and eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders. "You know how it is with these traditional families. He probably just _expects _kids. You know, like you don't need to talk about it. How long have you guys been married now, anyway? A year?"

"Six months, Simon. You were at the wedding."

"Huh. Did I get drunk?"

Clary punched him in the shoulder. "This isn't the Dark Ages any more, Simon. Women aren't just expected to churn out kid after kid. If Jace wanted them..."

"Yes?"

"If Jace wanted kids, he would have said something."

Simon looked like he might be stifling a grin. "This isn't the Dark Ages, you know. Women are entitled to their opinion. You more than most."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"You could have asked _him._ I mean, you want children, don't you?"

Clary paused to think. She had always, growing up as a child, assumed that she would have them at some point. She had never been overly attached to dolls, or had much experience with kids growing up, but she must have acknowledged somewhere along the line that she would probably be a parent at some point. It just hadn't been particularly high up on her to-do list, what with Shadowhunter training, writing the Rune guide (The Fray Book), getting married, moving into the Manor...

The Manor, which just a few mornings ago she'd been thinking needed to be filled, that it needed more people. Now there was another person, another person would could fill it up to the brim, make it bright and homey and loved...

It occurred to her that her mother must have been about this age when she had her first child, and Clary's situation was infinitely better. She was married, her husband loved her. There was no fear of public scorn, nothing like the concerns her mother must have had when she was carrying her. Why was she so worried?

"I'm not sure Jace wants children," she said, louder than she would have liked. The words rang through the room like a gong. "In fact, I'm fairly sure he doesn't want them."

Simon tilted his head. "Why would you think that?"

"I just... I think it will be too much for him. He's having enough trouble with the house, trying to sort out the ghost of the childhood he never had there. If I tell him he's going to be a father... I know he'll just start thinking about Valentine, again. He'll worry he'll turn into him or something equally stupid-"

"You're right," said Simon, causing Clary to seize up. "He probably _will _think something stupid. He's Jace. Stupid is kind of his thing. But he isn't Valentine. Even your mother understands that now. And there is no way on Earth or Idris he would ever harm his child."

"_I know that_!" Clary said, a little forcefully. "Of course I know that. But he won't. What if... what if he can't handle it? Just the thought of it-"

"Clary, don't. Jace won't-"

"And don't tell me Jace has never run away from his problems. Because he has."

"Maybe. But he always faces up to them in the end."

Clary sighed, and dropped her face into her hands. "I don't _want _this to be a problem, Simon. I want it to be good news. I want him to be happy."

"Who said it was a problem? You're the only one thinking that. If you went to anyone else right now, they'd hug you and say, 'congratulations! When's it due?'. You seem to be worrying about a lot of things that haven't happened yet. Go home. Tell Jace. If he freaks, hey, you still got me. And a whole load of other people to beat him up until he faces up to the er, challenge, presented. If you don't beat him up yourself, that is."

Clary found herself smiling, despite the tears easing out of her eyes. She fell into Simon's arm and snuggled up to his chest, remembering a time that seemed much simpler.

"Thanks, Simon."

"Any time. And Clary?"

"Yup?"

"Congratulations."

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**A/N: Don't get mad at me for not having Clary (and possibly Jace? We will see!) skipping about the room overjoyed with the news. Generally unplanned babies have this kind of effect, and many people who go into parenthood absolutely terrified end up being really fantastic parents. So, is Clary right to worry? How will Jace react when he finds out?**

**(Personally, I'm looking more forward to Magnus hearing the news! It can only lead to hilarity.)**

**Next chapter being held at ransom for reviews! Seriously, some people are fav/following and NOT reviewing. RUDE. **

**...please review. I'll give you cake?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter Four! (see how quickly I update when I am flooded with reviews?) Thanks all! :P**

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Chapter Four

Deciding to tell Jace she was pregnant was easy. Telling him, however, was not. He seemed to be so busy all of the time, sorting through the secrets of the basement one minute and racing off to fight a demon the next. Clary was running out of excuses not to join him in the field. She'd always thought less of pregnant women who sat around like delicate bits of porcelain as if one wrong move could hurt their child, but Clary was fairly sure demon poison was less than beneficial. She found herself nearly constantly annoyed with him, buried in the basement, indifferent to her condition, and then rushing off to fight evil, unaware that he could be rendering a child fatherless in the process.

Not that any of the missions he'd dashed off on last minute sounded remotely threatening. Things had been very quiet recently, and the trouble was usually taken care of before he could even get there. Clary could feel that he was itching for a good fight. There was usually always something going on in New York. A rogue downworlder. A young warlock causing havoc. The occasional loose demon. It was quieter here in Idris, in the peaceful Glass City, and Jace hated the quiet.

One time when he was out, Clary thought about hauling the crib upstairs, leaving it at the foot of their bed with a post-it note saying "we might be needing this soon. Thought you should know" and letting the pieces fall where they may. Then again, Jace had been so oblivious lately, it might take him some time to notice. He was reading an old diary belonging to Stephen Herondale, and the little leather-bound volume seemed to consume almost every waking moment he had. It made him laugh, and Clary couldn't begrudge him that. His father had had a wicked sense of humour, and she knew how much it meant to him to find something of himself in those pages.

His distractions meant it was much easier for her to hide her condition. If he had been at her side all day, it wouldn't have been long before he worked out why she had to dash to the toilet every ten minutes, or why she took so long when she was there. He noticed her eating habits changing, her aversion to certain foods, but so far she'd just been able to shrug it off and say she wasn't in the mood for pork that night, and that she was trying to reduce her caffeine intake.

Clary was sitting in the kitchen one morning, nursing a cup of coffee in her hands. She knew she wasn't supposed to drink the stuff, but the smell seemed better than ever. Plus, she reasoned, if Jace realised she was off it completely, he'd definitely know something was amiss. Not, she reminded herself, that that would be a bad thing.

Jace slid into the room, dressed in his dark shadowhunter gear. "There's been a murder down in Brooklyn," he said, with far too much excitement surrounding the word _murder._ "Could be a rogue vampire. I'm going to check it out."

"I thought Simon was vampire-hunting guy? He's in New York this week. He'll probably have caught the guy by the time you get there!"

"Couldn't hurt to have back-up. Are you sure you won't come with me?"

"I'll skip on the sewer-hunt. I just washed my hair."

"All right," Jace slid his dagger into his belt and lent over to kiss her, sweeping back her hair to get to her cheek. His lips brushed her skin with butterfly gentleness, making her feel instantly like a young girl again. How he could still have that sort of effect was beyond her. She wondered if that was going to change soon and thought it probably would.

Jace was halfway out the door when he stopped and lent back in. "Are you all right, Clary?"

_Now's my chance. I should just say it, real casual. Just, "actually, I'm pregnant" or just "I think I might be carrying your baby, Jace Lightwood." There's no need for it to be a big deal. It's good news. Good news!_

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just go get those demons."

Jace grinned, bending over to kiss her once more, "I'll be back in time for dinner!"

"Good," Clary replied, a little more grumpily than she meant to, "because you're cooking."

Half an hour later, Clary grew bored of mooching about the house sniffing coffee like a glue addict, and decided she had to get out. Even when she knew Jace was perfectly fine, it was difficult for her to settle when he wasn't around, something always squirmed anxiously right at the back of her mind. Lately, there were always two things.

Before she really knew what she was doing, she'd pulled on her coat and was out the door, heading for the Portal to New York. She was going to see her parents. She was going to talk to Jocelyn. And she was going to tell her what was going on.

_At this rate, everyone will know before Jace. He's going to be so mad when he finds out..._

She was just turning the corner onto the Subway when the sensor in her pocket started to vibrate. Her hand flew to the dagger lining her jacket, and she jumped back into an alley, affording herself some shelter while scanning around. The streets were packed with people, stuffed thick with noise and traffic, but there were no demons to be seen. The vibrations in her pocket intensified.

Within a second, something fast and dark and the size of a Pekingnese came streaking down the alley. It looked like a large, red-eyed rat with an unusual amount of legs and at least twice the number of tails. Clary didn't have time to count them because before she could draw her blade, before it could even reach the sidewalk, a knife flew out of the shadows and wedged itself in its back. It dissolved down into the concrete slab, back to its own dimension.

Jace stepped into the sunlight, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Jace? I thought you were in Brooklyn?"

He shrugged. "Didn't get that far. Received a message re-directing all shadowhunters to the area. There's been a breakout."

"What's going on? Is it serious?"

"Marginally. What are you doing here?" he flashed her a devilish grin. "Couldn't keep away?"

Clary narrowed her eyes. "I was going to visit Mom and Luke-"

Before she could finish her sentence, two people burst into the alley, both looking slightly worse for the wear. One of them was a Shadowhunter by the name by the name of Nicholas, the other was Maia.

_Shadowhunters and werewolves, fighting demons together willingly. Who would have thought?_

_"__Oh!" Maia said, stopping long enough to smile, "Hi Clary! You joining us for the hunt?"_

_"__Er-"_

"The trail split, Herondale," said Nicholas, with a sense of urgency, "The Oni Demon's heading down town while the other one headed back towards-"

"_Oni demon? _Loose around the streets of New York?" Clary stared at Jace. "What's going on here?"

"We don't know," Jace replied, looking slightly more concerned than he had a moment ago. "All right, Nicholas, with me. We'll track the Oni demon. Maia, take Clary and round up the others. Clary, are you armed?"

"Please," Clary drew back the flap of her coat, revealing a long, sheathed dagger. "Who do you think you married?"

Jace smiled. "I didn't doubt you for a moment. Have my spare, it can never hurt to have too many knives. Unless, of course, they're in your _back. _Or your front. Or anywhere on your general person. In fact, I revoke that previous statement. It can hurt to have too many knives."

Clary took Jace's spare.

"It's-" he started.

"Sariel, I know. Take care."

"You, more."

There was no time for any more pleasantries. Jace took off around the corner with Nicholas, and Clary shot off into the shadows, racing after Maia's trail.

* * *

Maia was in wolf form several meters away, a dark black shaping darting through the square patches of sunlight. Clary was struggling to keep up with her, but she could tell she was holding back for her sack. After a couple of blocks, she drew to a close, shifting back into human shape outside an old warehouse.

"Here," she said.

Clary nodded, drawing open her weapons and naming them. Maia heaved open the door, stepping across the darkened threshold, Clary right behind her.

She held up her witchlight, catching a switch on the wall.

"Maia-"

"Got it."

With a hum and a whir, like machinery in overdrive, the lights flickered on, flashes illuminating no fewer than a dozen writhing black shapes, masses of legs, arms, teeth, fur and fangs, all standing in lines like children in a classroom. Briefly, Clary caught someone at the end of the room, a person dressed in grey, before the lights flickered again and he was gone.

There was the sound of creaking bone and slithering skin as every demon in the room turned, their narrow eyes fixed on them, unblinking, unmoving.

A voice filled the room, still and cold and voluminous. "_Kill the wolf. Leave the shadowhunter__."_

Clary felt no relief at this sudden declaration, only fear at his intentions and concern for Maia.

"Maia," she started, "run."

The demons leapt.

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger! DUM DUM DUM! (And Clary STILL hasn't told him...)**

**Like this style? Like this writing? Feel free to check out this:**

** "the-dragonriders" on wattpad. Link on profile page.**

**(Please?)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Chaaaaaaapter five! Apologies for the minor delay. I'd like to say I was pulling one of those delightful 12-hour days at work (those happen a lot) but most of my classes have all gone for the summer and that is a thing of the past until September! (So maybe a thing of the future...?) WHOO! So I filled the time with a double-bill at the cinema (Belle for the middle-aged part of me, X-men for the much more prominent geek in me)**

**Anyway... enjoy!**

* * *

Having dispensed with the demon, Jace was hitting the concrete, tearing back towards the point where he'd last seen Clary. Nicholas had split, trying to cover more ground.

A dark shape cut across the rooftops. Jace stopped, briefly, scanning for trouble. Confirming there was nothing around, and satisfied the sensor on his belt was cold and still, he turned to carry on.

Nearly running straight into Simon's face.

"You have _got _to stop doing that!" he hissed, his voice rather hurried. "I could've... stabbed you, or something."

"You could try," said Simon, grinning, "but I doubt you would have succeeded. Your aim looks off. Have you gained weight? Missus been over-feeding you?"

"I am not a pet, Shadowmundie," Jace concentrated on his air of indifference.

"Shadowmundie? That's new."

"Like it?"

"No."

The two boys smiled at each other. It had become the extent of their relationship, making smart remarks and then grinning at each other while nobody was looking.

"There's a warehouse full of demons two blocks away," Simon said, "Did you know?"

Jace did a quick bit of geography in his head. "I know. Clary's there, I suspect."

Any feign of wit or sarcasm dribbled from Simon's expression. "Wait, Clary's there?"

"Yeah." Jace nodded.

"I'm surprised you let her go."

"I think we've already established that Clary is more than capable of looking after herself, and does what she wants regardless of other, much safer, options provided."

"Yeah, I know _that," _Simon rolled his eyes, looking increasingly uncomfortable, as if someone were slowly twisting his insides."But I would have thought even she... you know, in _her condition_-"

"Her _what?"_

"Oh," Simon's eyes suddenly went very wide and large. "She didn't tell you..."

"Tell me _what _exactly? What's wrong with Clary?"

"Nothing! Nothing is wrong with her! If there was, you'd be the first person she'd go to, wouldn't you? After all, you're her husband! She would never, ever tell me something important before me! Never ever! Uh-uh."

"Simon, I like and almost respect you as a friend and family member, so please do not take it personally when I tell you that if you do not tell me what is wrong with Clary this very instant, I will nail you to a rooftop, split open your middle, stuff it with hamsters, and let the little rodents tea party in your organs until they slowly eat you apart from the insides. Are we quite clear?"

* * *

Clary despatched the last of the demons, pulling her twin blades across its throat like scissors. It fell to the ground with a heavy thud, dissipating instantly. Maia was lying on the ground not far away, still but breathing. Clary felt a cold iron grip in her stomach, like a punch, and her knees hit the ground.

A warlock stepped out of the darkness. He was tall and narrow, dressed in a pinstripe suit, with the same youth in his face that all the warlocks wore. He could have been any age from eighteen to eight hundred, and it would have been impossible to tell, but something in his air made Clary sure he was still quite young. His keen gray eyes gave nothing away as he slid towards her, black membranous wings flexing, like the tail of a cat.

"Are you quite all right there?" there was no hint of concern in his voice, just curiosity.

Clary uncurled herself and reached over for her dagger. With a snap of his fingers, blue sparks cracked into the stone.

"I wouldn't, if I were you, Valentine's daughter."

Clary groaned, a mix of pain and annoyance. "Been a while since I heard that. I generally go by the name of Fairchild nowadays. Or Herondale. Even Graymark. Valentine has never had anything to do with me."

"I believe you." There was condensing smirk in his voice, some thinly-veiled conceit. "Which is just as well, really. The same cannot be said for your beloved husband, however."

"You leave Jace out of this you son of a-"

"Oh I will, at least for now. He has something that I need." He crouched down by Clary's side and extending a long hand towards her face. She moved to swipe at him, but her stomach started to clench again, the familiar grip taking hold. She moaned, curling in on herself.

The warlock smiled. "Then again," he flashed his teeth at her, his grin as hungry and sly as cat's. "His role may be finished already. Look after yourself, my dear."

He stood up and started to walk away, the dust thickening around him like fog. "I'll be seeing you again, Clarissa Fairchild, Daughter of the Angels."

* * *

Clary was still lying balled-up on the ground when she heard the sound of running footsteps. Apart from the odd scrape, a pounding headache and stomach cramps that felt like her organs were trapped in a vice, she was otherwise unhurt. She had just about managed to pull herself into a sitting position by the time Jace and Simon appeared.

Jace immediately dropped his weapons and slid to her side, while Simon kept his in his grip, casing the area before running to Maia's side. He turned her over gently. She moaned, batted him away, and gave Clary a weak smiled that let her know she'd be all right.

"Clary," Jace's voice was lighter than a whisper, and still as sharp and broken as steel on glass. He took her face in his hands and inspected a bruise on her cheek, his fingers much more delicate than usual.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. The area's clear, Simon. I finished them off."

"What were you _thinking_ Clary?"

"Um, I was thinking like a Shadowhunter, and chasing down some demons."

"On your own?"

"I had Maia! He just... split. And hey, how many times have you rushed off on _your _own?"

"That's different."

"Oh, really? How so?"

"Because I have never been carrying someone else's child!"

So many things ran through Clary's head in that moment that her body had to seize up in order for them to be counted. One, that Jace clearly knew. Two, Simon was in a lot of trouble. Three, that was a really possessive thing for Jace to say and finally, four- _his child. _He knew, and he_cared._

"Jace, I... Simon _told _you?"

"It wasn't my fault! You said_you _were going to tell him and I just assumed he knew!"

"Don't blame Simon for this!"

"Yes, exactly," Simon said, helping Maia to her feet, "Thank you Jace. Don't blame-"

"SHUT UP, SIMON." Clary and Jace said together.

"I just can't believe you would keep something like this secret from me-"

"I wasn't-" Clary's voice was lost to another hard spasm. She clutched her middle involuntarily, starting to shake with pain.

"Clary?" the fear in Jace's voice was palpable.

"I think... perhaps..." Clary moaned. "I think a healer would be good, right about now..."

* * *

**A/N: Oh noes! And drama! What's going to happen? Who is this mysterious warlock? What does he want? What's wrong with Clary? I'm sure it will all be all right... because in the next chapter, we have MAGNUS! Yay!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Finally, Jace has discovered Clary's secret... but how will he react?**

**Getting a few comments from people saying they've read this story before- it does say in the summary that this is a reboot of the same fic, so don't worry, I haven't stolen somebody else's work, and you're not going mad. Personally, I think it's rather flattering that you remembered it! **

**Changes have mainly been made to match it up with the end of CoHF (really hope the Dark Artifices doesn't go and mess this up... although it's sure to change something!) although it features a few more scenes, lines of dialogue, and an extended ending! **

* * *

Chapter Six

Simon was hammering on the door of Magnus' place, Clary wrapped up tightly in Jace's arms. He wasn't sure what frightened him more, the fact that she was desperately trying to smile, white-faced with pain though she was, or the look that Jace had worn the entire way here. Like he was trying to keep the world from crumbling apart with a roll of tape, and not one other person could possibly shoulder this with him. Simon could not believe, looking at him then, that there had ever been a time where he thought Jace didn't love Clary. The hurt in his face was as palpable as hers.

A young fey girl wearing a French maid's outfit opened the door, shooting Simon a wry smile as if she didn't even notice Clary and Jace. Before she could so much as ask for an introduction, Simon had moved her aside and was charging up the stairs.

"Why, do come in," said Magnus from the landing. He was wearing his rainbow trousers and a purple vest, his nails gleaming with golden glitter."Oh dear lords, it's you again. Someone got a splinter?"

Jace barged passed him with Clary in his arms, mumbling weakly against his chest. He pushed open the door to the bedroom with his back and set her down on the bed, brushing back her hair. "It's Clary," he said, as if this were all the explanation needed. "Is Alec in?"

Magnus hovered in the door. Simon could see him trying to remain detached, but even so a trickle of concern tugged in his features; Magnus cared about Clary.

"Alas," he said, standing to the side, "he is out running an errand for Chairman Meow. He has run out of his favourite kibble, and he is _such _a picky eater-"

"Magnus, we really need your help here. Clary's hurt."

"So I established. What seems to be the matter?"

"She's pregnant," said Simon and Jace at once.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Who's the daddy?"

Jace glared, his fingers tightening on the bedsheets.

"I jest, I jest! But in all honesty, do I like a maternity ward?"

"You were the closest thing I could think of," Jace snapped. "Anyway, she's not in labour. She had a run in with a demon and-"

"Demons I can do," Magnus surveyed Clary carefully. "Pregnancy on the other hand... I don't have _much _experience with..."

"_Please_!"

Magnus exhaled, tossing his arms in resignation. "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm unbelievably talented. But if the baby is born with webbed feet and a tail, don't blame me. All right. Leave Midwife Magnus to it..."

* * *

It had been a very long and silent half an hour by the time Magnus finally left the bedroom. Simon had not sat down the entire time, but Jace was perched on an uncomfortable seat, his head in his hands, pale and transparent as a ghost. He was on his feet before the door had even closed.

"Is she-"

"She's _fine, _Mr Herondale."

Magnus always said the name _Herondale _different to everyone else, as if he took great delight in saying it. There was nothing teasing about his tone, only very quiet joy.

"And the-" Jace's voice caught on the word.

"It's all fine," he gaze Jace a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "A few minor... hiccups, as it were. It's not uncommon for women to experience some abdominal discomfort during pregnancy, especially when placed in stressful situations. I've given her a couple of potions to calm her down. We should probably keep her out of the field for a while, hey Daddy?" He patted his arm.

Jace groaned in frustration and brushed passed him into the room. Clary was sitting on the bed, on top of the covers with a blanket around her shoulders, nursing a warm, sweet-smelling drink. There was a dash of colour in her cheeks that hadn't been there before.

"Are you all right?" the coldness in his voice surprised him. How was it he could still manage to sound so uncaring sometimes, when his concern was so palpable he felt it should be streaming out his ears.

Clary nodded. "I'm fine. A lot of fuss about nothing, really. I'm a bit more concerned about the whole demon-"

Jace slammed his hands down against the end of the bed and shook it involuntarily, the whole of the frame vibrating under his weight.

"_Simon_, Clary! You told _Simon_ before me?"

"I was worried!" Clary said defensively, sitting up and sliding her drink to the night stand. "I needed to talk to my best friend."

"Why? What were you so worried about that you couldn't tell _me_?"

"I... I didn't think you wanted kids!" Clary's eyes shone. "I was... I was afraid of your response, OK?"

"You were... afraid of me?"

"Of your _response. _Selective hearing, much?"

"You thought I didn't want children?"

Clary nodded. "Don't you?"

"I'll admit, they weren't exactly high on my to-do list, but I always thought, _eventually_..."

"So, you're not mad?"

"Mad? Are you insane? Wait, yes, you must be, because you waited all this time to tell _your husband _that you were _having a baby._" Suddenly, Jace's eyes went very wide and his body froze. A few seconds later, he rocked back on his heels, as if his knees had turned to water, and sank into the bed next to her.

"A baby," he muttered, his words no longer feeling like his own, "wow."

"I know, right?"

"A whole other person. Depending on us. Not to screw up."

"Yup."

"We're screwed."

Clary laughed, running her hands through her hair. "Yeah."

"Well, maybe not you. You'll probably be a great mother. But me-"

"Oh, Jace, you'll be _fine-"_

"Sure, sure. As long as I remember not to kill its pets and that lessons on how to kill people do not make good birthday presents."

"Jace-"

"I hope it's a girl. Maybe a can be a better father to a girl. Spend the next eighteen to thirty-two years defending her from men just like me..."

"A girl?"

"Yeah, a girl. A daughter. Or a son. Either's fine. By the Angel," Jace breathed. "A baby." He reached across and took Clary's hand, his fingers very white. His grip shook a little in hers, and his eyes held the fear she'd seen whenever they were in a near-death situation and his gaze would catch hers, certain, for a second, that he would lose her. She had never seen him look more scared.

She tried to smile. Tried to be the pillar that Jace needed her to be, although she was doing a terrible, shaking job of it at the moment.

"What are we going to do?" she shrugged, trying to sound light-hearted.

Jace ran his spare hand through his hair. "We're... we're going to have a baby," he said, looking a little bit like he was standing in the way of a particularly large truck. "We're going to have a baby," he said, a little more solidly.

"Yeah," said Clary, "we are."

Jace laughed nervously, as nervously as he laughed when he asked her to marry him, as if they'd been some doubt she'd say anything but yes. "Dear god," he said. "I hope it looks like you."

Clary chuckled. "What, short and freckly?"

"I was going more along the lines of beautiful."

"I that case, I hope it takes after you."

Then came the response that she had been waiting for. "I love you," he said, his grasp tightening. He didn't speak the rest of the words. He didn't have to. _I love you, and we can do anything._

"What's the end of the world next to this, right?" Clary smiled, weaving their fingers together, and leaning into his arm. Just like that, the darkness of the world evaporated, just for a moment, and everything seemed so much brighter. Jace's hand slipped to the flatness of stomach, and rested on the spot where their child lay.

_Their baby._

* * *

**A/N: So, there you go! Jace's reaction. Much as I wanted it to make him pass out or be over-the-top joyful, I really wanted to go for some realism. Hope you enjoyed Magnus! He shall be in it more. More than necessary. Because I love him. Next up... joyful fluff, as the two get used to the idea of being parents, while Jace discovers more things about his past...**

**Review, pleeeeaaaaase! You've no idea how happy they make me. ^_^**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: A wee bit of fluff. Implied naughtiness. Oh, and yes, Clary kept her name. Because she's a modern gal. **

* * *

Chapter Seven

After Clary had sworn Magnus into silence, (at least for the next few weeks until they were sure all was well) she and Jace left for the Institute and Idris while Simon headed back to his apartment. It was sheer luck that they managed to get back into the house without running into anyone they knew. If Jace had bumped into Robert or Maryse, there would have been no stopping him. He looked like a man ready to explode.

Yet, when they finally reached the Manor and he helped Clary into a chair by the hearth, he was remarkably contained.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, stepping back from the fireplace, his voice as cool and controlled as the marble. "Tea? Coffee?"

Clary smiled weakly. "I'm not supposed to drink those things any more. Not with-"

"Yes, of course. Soup, then? Chicken?"

"I'm not sick, Jace."

"Well, you are looking a little-"

"_Jace," _Clary said firmly, and patted the space beside her. "Come and sit down."

"I'm not sure there's much room-"

"There's more room now than they'll be in a few months. Sit."

"I don't want to hurt-"

"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Clary climbed to her feet, throwing off the blanket Jace had tucked around her, and pushed him into the seat. She climbed into his lap, grinning smugly, and drew the cover around their shoulders.

"Well," Jace said, his body relaxing under hers. "This is nice."

"See what happens when you listen to your wife?"

Jace raised a hand to stroke her hair as she lent in his neck so the tip of her nose was hooked under his chin. "I'm starting to learn."

* * *

The next morning, Clary and Jace went to see a healer, who confirmed she was at least five weeks along, and the baby was perfectly healthy as far as could be discerned. There were no sonograms in Alicante, no projections of the child on a screen, but the healer was able to use a stethoscope to let them hear the rapid, thumping heartbeat of their child.

"It's so fast," said Jace. "Is it meant to be that fast?"

The healer nodded. "It's perfectly normal, Mr Herondale. Have no fear."

Clary smiled and reached up to touch his cheek. "I have a rune for that."

"I'm allowed to be fearful, Clary. I've never had a child before. Aren't you nervous?"

"Of course, but one of us needs to keep their wits about them and since you were busy..."

"Very funny. Are we done here?"

The healer had switched off while the two of them talking. She stood by the sink, scrubbing her hands. "Sure. I'll see you next month, Mrs Fairchild. Take care now."

They took the long way home. Clary was trying to get Jace used to the idea that she was not to going to sit idly by for the better part of the year, and aside from holding back on the demon-hunting would be carrying on exactly as normal. He still took his coat from her the second they arrived inside, clearly trying not to hover when she lifted herself up onto the kitchen counter.

He grinned sheepishly, placing a hand either side of her and kissing her forehead. "I still can't _quite _believe we're having a baby."

Clary laughed. "Me neither. I'm hoping I'll get used to it at some point in the next eight months."

"Do we _really _have to keep it a secret until-"

"Yes, Jace. I just want to be safe."

"You _will _be safe," he said assuredly, as if it were perfectly within his power to guarantee such a thing. "You and our child will be fine."

"So no more demon hunting?"

"No more demon hunting. You are restricted to painting, woman, and other labour-free tasks! For the next seven months, you are only eat lots of food and grow nice and-"

"Oh no!" Clary clapped her hand to her mouth.

"What-?" Jace looked around desperately, opening his arms as if she'd suddenly declared that she was having the baby, right now.

"I'm going to get _so fat..."_

Jace laughed, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Bestowing the miracle of life takes some sacrifices."

"Hmmph!"

"But you'll look perfect, Clary. You look beautiful covered in paint and dry wall. I can only imagine how amazing you'll look when I'm staring at the _two _people I love most in the world. And pretty soon, I won't have to imagine it."

At was amazing, Clary thought, that after all this time, he could still make a blush rise in her cheeks, still manage to surprise her.

"So," he continued, "for the next eight months, I shall wrap you in cotton wool, stuff you with food, and forbid you from having any life whatsoever. In fact, you may not even be permitted to leave the bedroom. Just so we're clear."

"Hmm," said Clary, swinging out in front of him and pulling her arms around his neck. "The bedroom, right now, sounds awfully good..."

She lent up and kissed him, pulling his body tightly against hers. His arms slid around her waist, and as his lips dropped down to her neck, her hipbones pressed against his thighs, her stomach to his, until their bodies were utterly indivisible. They was a hunger rising inside her, a feeling of fire, longing, wanting to fall so far into him that there would see to be two of them at all. Then a new sensation, a strange bubble deep in her centre.

_That has already happened. Inside of me is something that is both of us. His heart and mine, beating all on its own. Both of us as one. _

* * *

Later that day, Clary and Jace lay in bed with the sheets twisted around them. Clary was resting against Jace's chest, her fingers slowly curling around the lines of his muscles absent-mindedly while he wound her read tresses round his fingers.

"Are we going to talk about the incident with the demons, I mean, ever?" she asked, as simply as if she'd been asking him if they had any cereal left.

Jace replied does as casually. "If anything comes up, I will tell you, but there might be nothing to it. Rogue warlocks. Happens all the time."

"I told you what he said to me-"

"Most shadowhunters and downworlders know who you are. He was just trying to get you worked up. Apparently, it worked."

"He told the demons not to kill me-"

"Well," Jace stroked her cheek, "maybe he knows who I am too, and knew that if anything happened to you, I would hunt him down and destroy him in a number of very creative ways."

_The same cannot be said for your beloved husband, however..._

Maybe Jace was right. Maybe he was just try to mess with her, but the way he had looked at her, almost hungrily... The way he seemed to know exactly what was going on with her...

_His role may be finished already._

Clary shivered uncontrollably and Jace pulled up the covers.

_I am safe,_ she thought, glad Jace couldn't read her mind. _I am in Idris, and I am with Jace. He cannot get to me here. I won't let him get to me._

"But you will tell me, right?" she asked. "If anything comes up. Anything at all."

"Of course, but I really think you should let this go."

"Jace-"

"I'm serious, I don't want you getting stressed in your con-"

Clary rolled up, scowling, and took the sheets with her. "You know, yesterday, I thought the cotton wool thing was a joke. You certainly didn't treat me like cotton when-"

"Clary, I just don't want you to worry."

"Strangely enough, my husband keeping things from me makes me worry."

"All right. I'll tell you everything, as soon as I know, in gratuitous detail. Promise."

Clary raised an eyebrow. "Swear by the Angel?"

"I swear it on our unborn child," Jace reached out and skimmed the flesh of Clary's midriff, his touch feather-soft. "That's something much more precious to me."

* * *

**A/N: Goo! Fluff! Silliness! But also... is Clary right to be concerned? Is this merely a red herring? Does this writer even have a CLUE what she's doing? All will be revealed...**

**To err is human, to review, divine!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: quite a short one, this time! 'Pologies.**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Clary came downstairs one morning and found Jace at the table, his eyes fixed on a small, unopened leather volume. He was as pale as stone and just as still.

"What's up, sweetie?" she asked casually, helping herself to juice. "Jace? What's that? Another diary of some long-ago ancestor?"

"It's my mother's."

Clary snapped her head round and abandoned her glass. "You're sure?"

"It says _Celine Montclaire Herondale_ inside. So I'm fairly sure, yes."

Clary's features paled. "Have you read it?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because," Jace said, his jaw very tight. "It's addressed to me."

Clary felt gnawing in her stomach definitely not caused by the person she was sharing it with. Her hand reached towards the book, the cover worn with age and cold with lack of use. "Can I...?"

"What's mine is yours."

Clary picked it up and eased open the first page. The pages were thick and musty, but there was another scent there too, something almost sweet. A perfume?

"_Dear Baby_," she read, and immediately stopped. Jace's knuckles had clenched even further in, like turtle retreating into a shell.

"Don't read it aloud," he said.

"But-"

"Just... don't. I already know the first bit."

"All right." Clary swallowed, and turned back to Celine's diary.

_Dear Baby, I am writing this on the day I told your father I was pregnant. I have known myself, suspected it at least, for a little while, but I held off telling him until I was absolutely sure. I was scared, at first -most mothers often are- because your father and I hadn't really talked about children and it was no secret that our marriage was almost one of convenience. But he was so, so happy to hear about you. I had never seen him so overjoyed. For so long, I was so afraid I would be incapable of making him happy. I am glad to be wrong._

Clary stopped reading to herself. "Jace, are you sure you don't want to hear this?"

"I'm sure."

"But this... this is your _mother. _It's about your parents. It's about _you."_

Jace shook his head. "I wasn't born. You can't write about knowing someone you never met."

Clary's hand came to rest, protectively, on the flatness of her belly. There was nothing there yet, no hint of life apart from the constant nausea and mood swings to remind her that something was going on with her body. But she knew there was something inside her, something more than clumps of cells. Hearing Celine's words, she felt the quiet burst of excitement that still hadn't worn off, whenever she heard the word _baby. _She was going to have a baby. It was true, she didn't know the person inside her, not yet, but the expectations of meeting this little person were so tangible that they grew inside her too, bigger than the child she carried.

"Jace, I think you should read this."

"I don't want-"

Clary squeezed his shoulder. "What are you afraid of?"

Jace swallowed, his eyes struggling to meet hers. "You know how she died, don't you?"

"I heard."

"What kind... what kind of person _does _that? What kind of _mother _does that to themselves- to their _child?"_

All so clearly, Clary could see it now. Why hadn't she seen this before? How many years had Jace been thinking this, silently cursing the mother he never knew, wondering if she was just one more person in the world who should have loved him and didn't.

"Jace-"

"When I was a kid," he continued, his features pressed into an unnatural shape, a pretence of indifference. "Valentine told me my mother had died giving birth to me. We never spoke about her... because she didn't really exist, not to Valentine. He told me nothing about her, and I used to think that maybe he loved her, an awful lot more than he ever let on, and that a part of him blamed me for what happened to her. It made sense. I blamed me. I didn't have a mother and that was really all my fault. No one told me otherwise.

"And then I found out that I did have a mother, but that that mother didn't want _me. _She -inadvertently- tried to kill me. I don't wish to sound dramatic, but it's a little hard for me not to take that personally. Now I find this diary, and she professes to... to _love me. _Before she even knew me. What happened, to change her mind? If I meant so much to her when she barely knew I existed, why did she give up when she was so close to having me? Why did she stop..."

Jace's voice ended, and Clary knew there was no more for him to say. Slowly, she got up from her seat and draped her arms around him. Jace lent into her, pressing his forehead against her chest and circling his arms around her waist. She could hear him listening to her heart, and thought of the other heartbeat she carried- two, now, with the weight of Jace against her. Three hearts all beating together.

She was not sure what she could say to comfort him, but bitter thoughts were ushered in Valentine's memory, letting him grow up that way, blaming himself as Jace always did, confusing someone too young to know any better. There were no curses for Celine. Clary could not understand her either, but she wanted Jace to read the diary, because she was sure if he did, he would know he had been loved. That Celine's suicide was nothing to do with him. Clary opened her mouth to say something -anything- when Jace spoke instead.

"Your chest," he grinned, and Clary could hear the smirk in his voice, "is somewhat more cushioned than it has ever been before. Do make sure to thank the little one for me, won't you?"

"I hate you."

Jace looked up, his hands hooked on her waist, his face, just for a moment, content.

"I love you," he said, and Clary knew, like she always did, that he needed her to be serious right now, even when he couldn't be.

"I love you," she said, and pushed back his hair.

"Always," they said, and bent their heads together until they were kissing.

* * *

**A/N: More sweetness, but also... Jace, showing us his issues again. I don't know whether I want to make out with that boy or mother him. Poor thing. I don't like making up unnecessary angst and melodrama, but this does seem like a very Jace-like thing to think.**

**What do you reckon to Celine's diary then? Good idea? Silly?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This is just a short chapter, made of pretty much entirely new material (for those of you that have read it before). The last time I wrote this, Simon was still a vampire/not really with Isabelle, so their relationship wasn't really a factor in the series. CoHF really confirmed them as a serious couple and really made me root for them (especially when it looked like Simon was gone...sob) so it was necessary to include a bit more of them both.**

* * *

A few days later, the diary sat unopened on Jace beside table, lying slightly at an angle. Sometimes, Clary thought it had moved minutely during the night, as if Jace had picked up, pondered over it, and put it back down again. She wondered why he kept it so close; it watched over him like a mother watched over her child. Perhaps that was the point. Close enough for him to keep it safe, but not close enough for it to hurt him.

Clary sighed, hearing Jace about knocking about the kitchen. "You're daddy can be a bit of an idiot, sometimes," Clary said, rubbing her bare middle, "Means the rest of us have to be patient. Including you, kiddo."

She got up and pulled on some clothes, feeling slightly strange as she zipped up her genes. In a few weeks, she wasn't going to fit in them. Hopefully that also meant the sickness would subside- how could someone feel so groggy for so long?

She pulled her hair into a ponytail and headed downstairs. It was early, the weather sleek and grey, on the cusp of storm.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" said Jace, as if Clary couldn't do something that simple any more.

"I'm closer!" said Clary, and made a point of running and heaving the door open dramatically.

Isabelle was standing on the doorstep, hair slightly tousled with rain, her dark eyes extremely wide.

"You're _pregnant?" _she screeched.

"Ssh!" Clary pulled her into the house and shut the door quickly behind her, as if the trees had ears to hear with and mouths to carry the gossip. "Unbelievable!" Clary tutted. "Simon, _again?_"

"Don't blame Simon! He's been acting edgy for weeks. Do you know how hard it is to keep a secret from me? When I'm _sleeping _with you?"  
Clary blinked. "No, Izzy, can't say I do."

Jace bounded into the hallway. "What's going on?"

"Jace!" Isabelle squealed, her face breaking into a smile, "How have you _been?_ Don't answer that, Daddy, I know _exactly _how you've been. You've been _busy_!"

"Hi, Iz," Jace said, the smile in his voice barely contained. "Simon told you, huh?"

"You mad at him?"

"Only on days that end with y."

Clary punched him in the shoulder. "_I'm _mad at him!"

"Good, we can both agree to be mad at him together. First time ever." Jace grinned and hugged Isabelle. "I wanted to tell you myself," he said, "To see the look on your face."

"It's kind of like the one I'm wearing right now." Isabelle's face ruptured into a beam of pure light. She twirled around, dropping down on her knees and hugging Clary's middle.

"Hi there, baby! I'm your Aunt Isabelle. I am going to spoil you rotten and take you on so many shopping trips! And when you're old enough, I'll take you to Paris! Rome! Vienna-"

"Er, Isabelle?" Clary waved from above. "Right here. Nice to see you."

"Oh, Clary!" Isabelle leapt up and threw her arms around her, refreshing indelicately.

"Isabelle, you know our baby might be a boy, right? Last time I checked, they weren't that into shopping."

Isabelle shrugged. "Then I hope he's gayer than Alec. He sucks at shopping."

"You could always borrow Magnus."

Isabelle pulled a face. "No, thanks. I'll pass."

Clary's stomach growled, and she turned towards the kitchen, Isabelle and Jace moving after her. "Is, do you know what time it is? It's a bit early for a social call."

"Is it?" she threw her hands out indifferently. "I didn't know. I just got in from Morocco."

"Oh yeah?" said Jace, "How are things there?"

"Gorgeous! The weather is wonderful, the clothes-"

"I was talking about the demonic situation."

"Oh," she said, her voice dropping a little, "that's pretty good too. You guys got anything to eat? I'm starved."

"I'm making pancakes," Jace said. "You want in?"

"I could give you a ha-"

"NO!" Jace and Clary said, very quickly.

"I mean," Jace started, "You're our _guest-_"

"You're probably warn out from travelling-"

"You just... sit down," Jace directed her towards a chair. "And relax. And don't touch _anything..."_

Isabelle dropped, somewhat reluctantly, into the chair. Clary came and perched on the end, tucking her legs under Isabelle's. She enjoyed the simplicity of her company, the easiness of her presence. It hadn't been like this, always, but it felt now that it had. She remembered Isabelle's bluntness with her when they first met, her seeming dislike, but it almost seemed like a dream, a picture in somebody else's life. Isabelle was easily her closest female friend.

"I can't believe you're having a baby," Isabelle re-iterated, looking slightly stunned.

"Believe me, I'm still getting used to it. All these weird words have new meanings, like dad, and child and-"

"Planned?" asked Isabelle, with stark honesty.

"Er, unexpected," Clary returned, "but wanted."

"Well, of course," Isabelle said, as if that much were obvious. "I bet Jace is super-excited."

"He's certainly getting there."

"His first blood relative," Isabelle mused. "I mean, although he didn't always know it, Jace hasn't had a blood relative since the day he was born. This is kind of a big deal."

"Babies usually are," Clary agreed, "but you're right."

A few minutes ticked by in silence, punctuated only by the rain lashing against the windows, and the sound of Jace moving around in the kitchen.

"How are you, Isabelle?" she asked.

Isabelle played with a strand of her hair. "I'm good."

"Just good?"

"Is there a law against the word now?"

"No, I just..."

Isabelle narrowed her gaze. "Spit it out."

"How are you and Simon?"

"Great!" she said, far too quickly.

This time it was Clary's turn to glare.

Isabelle sighed, sucking on her bottom lip. She avoided Clary's gaze, turning towards the window, continuing to play with her lock of hair.

"It's complicated," she said.

"How so?"

"I miss him, when I'm away," she said.

"That's... not a problem."

"Isn't it?" Isabelle looked around. "It feels like it is."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm not sure Simon loves me as much as I love him."

"Is-"

Isabelle groaned, pulling in her limbs and folding her arms stiffly. "It's not because of you, or anything stupid or similarly as historical. I just... I can't explain it."

"Give it a shot."

"We've been together six years, Clary. Six years!"

"Oh," said Clary, with some sudden understanding. "I see. Have you tried maybe-"

Clary didn't get the chance to finish her sentence, which probably would have been unhelpfully anyone. Jace came back into the room with a tray loaded with food. He'd taken the whole "eating for two" to a new level.

Clary looked back at Isabelle, and wondered if it were her place to interfere.

* * *

**There we go! Not much to do with the plot, but character development/personal conflict whatevs... **

**(I teach English Literature... I probably shouldn't be writing "whatevs" so sssssh.**

**PS, people keep sending me the nicest comments and reviews! Thank you so much! Please remember though, that if you sign in as a guest, I can't respond to them. Thank you all anyway! ^_^**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Here goes folks! Chapter Ten in which Clary and Jace tell pretty much everyone. FLUFF + Magnus, with a little plot point squeezed in at the opening. I feel like I should apologise for the fluff in this... but I won't.**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

_The sky was gold and pink and silver, and Clary was sitting on the beach, her toes curled in the sand, watching a cherub with red-gold hair and tiny fluffy wings like a baby bird's playing in the shallows. Slowly, the child crouched down and starting poking the soft wet sand with its pudgy fingers, and then it turned back to Clary and smiled, pointing._

_Runes were written in silt, intricate, unknown lines, ones that had no meaning as far as Clary knew. The cherub-child giggled as a wave splashed its feet and washed the marks away, and Clary laughed back._

_There was a sound of flapping and a dark shape splintered the last few rays of sunlight. A huge, winged creature, like a large bat, swept onto the beach. The child was screaming, and Clary was running as it was lifted up, legs kicking, and the creature soared away into the rapidly descending night._

_Clary looked down and saw her trainers stained with blood._

Clary woke with a slight jolt and saw Jace standing over her, grinning. Immediately, any fear the dream had left dissolved.

"Today's the day!" he said, with a smile that reminded her of Felicity at Christmas.

Clary groaned and rolled over. Today she was officially three month's pregnant, passed the danger zone. Today she had agreed that it they could the rest of their friends and family. What she had not bargained for was "today" beginning at 7am.

"Don't go back to sleep!" Jace rocked her. "Come, woman! We have good news to spread!"

"And relatives to seriously piss off if we turned up at this ungodly hour. Let me sleep!"

"Come on! If I'm up, you should be too."

"You," Clary hissed, "can have coffee. I, on the other hand, only have one cure for tiredness, and that is sleep. Go away."

"But-"

"GO AWAY, JACE."

Jace jumped off the bed. "Ah. That would be the mood swings talking, wouldn't it?"

"Jace, have you ever read a book called _How to Annoy all Women?_"

He laughed. "No, why?"

"THEN GO AND WRITE IT."

Whether Jace did or not was beyond her, but at very least he tip-toed out of the room. Clary rolled over and hurriedly went back to sleep, no longer plagued by dreams of angel children being snatched away.

* * *

An hour later, she was much more sociable and ready to go. She had already promised Jace that they could tell Robert and Maryse first, partly so she could appease her guilt over telling Simon before him.

Clary had been avoiding them slightly for the last few weeks; Maryse had a mother's keen sense and Clary was sure that any prolonged conversation with her would make her secret obvious. But the lack of contact had itself acted like a pointed finger, and by the time all four of them were sitting down at the Institute, the Lightwoods were exchanging knowing glances.

Despite their separation, the Lightwoods still saw a lot of each other. Although Robert was the Inquisitor, and Alicante his primary residence, he still liked to visit the Institute and "check on the order of things". He met up with his ex-wife every fortnight, to have lunch and talk business. The were more civil to each other in this setting than they had been for years of their marriage.

For a moment, all four of them sat in silence eyes dancing around the room. Robert poured everyone a cup of coffee, and watched slyly as Clary didn't drink.

"So..." Maryse said, "what's-"

"We're having a baby!" Jace jumped up from his seat and at least a foot into the air. Clary remained firming on her seat, blushing furiously.

"Oh!" Maryse clapped her hands, standing up to embrace her adopted son. "How wonderful!"

"Congratulations, the pair of you!" Robert shook Jace's hand and sandwiched Clary into a fatherly hug. "That's brilliant news!"

"We had no idea! How lovely, Clary."

They were beams and congratulations all round, and Maryse rushed off to find "some cake we've got just lying round".

The rest of the visit passed very quickly, as Jace and Clary announced their intention of telling everybody else in one day so no one would have to keep it secret. Maryse promised to fish out her old baby things from when her children were little and bring them over sometime in the week. By the time they left, the couple were almost bouncing with the same excitement Jace had shown delivering the news. There was a very warm glow warming Clary from the toes.

_We made them that happy._

* * *

Clary was more nervous about telling her family. She was sure Jocelyn was going to take one look at her and know the baby wasn't planned, and be more worried for her daughter's mental well-being than excited over the prospect of being a grandparent, and she so wanted her to be excited...

Yet, when she finally spilled the means, Jocelyn did exactly the right thing, immediately yelling out her claim of surprise and wrapping her daughter in her arms, while Luke stood on, his gast well and truly flabbered.

Felicity just frowned and tugged on Clary's shirt. "You can't be a mommy until I'm a grown-up!"

"Why's that?"

"Because I'M the baby, that's WHY!"

Luke looked as if a very large hammer had stamped a smile into his face. He gave the word 'dumbfounded' new meaning. "I'm going to be a granddad!"

"You can't be a granddad till I'M a mommy!" scowled Felicity, stamping her foot to reiterate her comment, the only way she knew how. "I'm your daughter, not her!"

"Fleecy," said Jocelyn passingly, given Jace a warm hug, "you really must learn to share."

"No!"

Clary laughed, bending down and trying to tease her stubborn little sister's folded arms away from her chest. "No! No! He's MY daddy, not YOURS!"

It was impossible to be annoyed with someone who looked so cute when they were furious, but there was a lesson to be learnt. "Luke's my Dad too, you know."

"No he's not."

"Yes he is. Luke, am I yours?"

"Sure are, Clary." Luke said, stepping over to wrap her in the tightest of hugs. "One-hundred-percent."

* * *

The next on the list was Magnus and Alec. Clary and Jace could only imagine how difficult the last few weeks had been for Magnus, keeping the juicy piece of gossip to himself. They announced their intention of coming over in the afternoon, and arrived to a table of exquisite china, laden with tiny sandwiches and cakes, with pots of fancy tea.

"Wow, Magnus," said Clary, as she bit into a slice of fruit cake. It was rich and tangy. "You really went all out!"

Magnus beamed, setting down a tea cloth adorned with the Queen of England's face. "Well, you know, it's just something I whipped up on a whim..."

"He's been on about this all day," Alec groaned, dumping himself unceremoniously on the opposite couch. "He wouldn't shut up about it. It was most annoying."

"I just wanted something a little different! It's not often these two come and visit! Why, I don't think I've seen you in months! How are you?"

Clary and Jace shared an amused look.

"We're well, thanks Magnus," said Clary, still looking at Jace.

"In fact, we've got a bit of news..."

"Yeah, actually..." Clary reached out for Jace's hand at the same time he went for hers. They both squeezed. "I'm... we're pregnant."

"You're having a baby? That's fantastic news! I had no idea!" Magnus clapped his hands delightedly. "Darling, isn't that simply sublime?"

Alec was sitting on the couch with his hands open expectedly, a look of joy radiating across his face as if someone had just handed him the world's cutest puppy. "This is the happiest day of my life."

"The happiest day of _your _life?" Magnus glared, unhappy about the implication.

"I'm going to be an _uncle_! You know, I'll probably never have kids of my own, so stealing my siblings' is the only chance I've got! Congratulations!"

He leapt off his seat and launched himself at Jace with almost cartoonish glee, flinging his arms around him and not quite suppressing a jump. When he finally let go of his brother, it was only to pull Clary into his embrace and squeeze her.

"So sorry," he said, pulling back abruptly. "I got a bit carried away there. Hope I didn't hurt the little guy..."

"A bit?" Jace raised an eyebrow.

Alec ignored him and crouched down at Clary's feet, giving her an affectionate pat on the tummy. "Hello, little one. I'm you uncle Alec..."

"What are you going to call it?" asked Magnus, still looking at them coolly from his seat. "I've always found Magnus to be a strong, manly name-"

"Magnus," said Jace, with as straight a face as he could manage, "you're wearing glitter."

"A true man is comfortable whatever his attire."

"You don't want Magnus anyway. You want Alexander! Now _that's _a strong name! And the great thing is, it works for a boy _and _a girl!"

Jace glanced at Clary. "We'll add it to the list."

"Do you know what you're having? Boy? Girl? Hermaphrodite?" asked Magnus.

"No, not yet. We want the surprise."

"It certainly will be, if it's a hermaphrodite."

Clary glared. "Thank you for that, Magnus."

"What do you even know about kids?"

Magnus clapped a hand to his chest, deeply wounded. "I am offended, Jace Herondale! I have been around for eight hundred years! I know more about babies than many a person who _has them. _As a matter of fact, I spent the 1950's serving as a midwife in London's East End."

"Wow, really?" Alec looked amazed. "That's incredible. You never said- oh, wait, you're joking."

"Indeed. Although I have helped a few women give birth to Warlock children, through the years. And a werewolf child, once. A case of being in the wrong place and the wrong time... many, many, wrong times..." he clapped Clary on the shoulder. "Good luck! Just... lie back and think of New York! I'm told it's a hell of a town."

"I'm deeply, deeply regretting telling you right now."

"But you won't," Magnus said with a wink, "when you receive my custom-made baby-clothes."

* * *

After a day of visiting almost everyone she knew, Clary was ready to go home after finishing up at Magnus and Alec's, but Jace clearly had other ideas. They'd barely stepped out onto the sidewalk before he was pulling her away like a dog on a lead.

"Where are we going?" Clary asked.

"Shopping!"

"Shopping?" Clary pulled a face. "Must we?"

"Yes!" Jace replied, with considerable conviction. "We must. You don't want Magnus choosing the baby's entire wardrobe, do you?"

Clary groaned. "No. But-"

"No buts, woman!"

Clary offered a few more unenthusiastic retorts and feeble excuses before they reached the stores, but Jace was persistent, and it was, she decided, when she watched him perusing baby garments and ogling the little babies out shopping with their mothers, rather cute to see him so excited. A lot of the other dads in the store (all three of them) looked more like her- sceptical and slightly nauseated and clearly not there out of choice.

Jace, on the other hand, was leaping from shelf to shelf like a child in a toy store. Clary couldn't remember ever seeing him so excited before, at least not in public. He was throwing things into a basket with glee, making several of the women in the store eye Clary enviously.

_When was it, _she mused, _that became so lucky?_

When Jace started on his second basket, Clary stepped in.

"Jace, Luke and Mom are going to send over a bunch of Fleecy's old things. We don't need all this junk."

"Junk! _Junk?" _Jace looked heartily offended._"_I object. Look at this adorable Noah's ark playset. Is _this _junk?" he held up a chunky model boat with brightly-coloured hand-carved animals. Even Clary had to admit that it was quite exquisite, especially for a child's toy.

"OK, we can get that. But then that is _it. _We're going to have so much stuff..."

Jace shrugged. "I don't care. I want our baby to have everything."

As the assistant rang up there purchases and placed them in several bags, Clary thought about Jace's room back at the Institute, how bare and empty it had been, and how Isabelle had told her once that he had only brought a single toy with him when he came.

_He must have had so little as a child. No wonder he wants so much for this one._

She shared his excitement on the cab ride back, looking over each little toy, every gender-neutral outfit, blanket and bottle, and imagined what it would be like in a few months to hold the baby that went with them. It was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure.

Jace unpacked everything into the spare room next to theirs. He brought up the crib from the basement, lined it with blankets and a stuffed toy, and the two of them moved it into the centre of the room. Clary looked at the plain walls and imagined filling them up, a dozen different designs flitting through her mind.

Jace just looked at the cradle, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tightly. "I can't think of a single thing," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "that would make this day more perfect."

Clary smiled. "I can," she said, and wondered if he could tell, just looking at her, what she was going to say. She felt like she was radiating warmth, that light was dancing through her pores. _This _was the feeling she had been waiting for. Not the sickness, or the vomiting, the grogginess or light-headedness that came whenever she so much as _sniffed _the wrong foods. This solid, gentle glow, the feeling of someone well and truly living inside her.

"Jace, our baby just moved."

* * *

**A/N: And, voila! One new chapter. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Originally, this chapter was angst-ridden as Simon talks about the drawbacks of being a vampire, never having a chance to have a family of his own, and how one day he'll have to leave Clary because he doesn't want to watch her die. Now he just talks about his relationship with Isabelle! ^_^**

* * *

Three months later, Clary was standing in front of a full-length mirror, wriggling into a white sundress that finished just below her knees. It was made to fit the bump around her middle, and it was one of the few pieces of clothing she owned that didn't make her feel huge. She was told that she actually had a very small baby bump for someone six months along, but that didn't seem to help. None of her old clothes fitted apart from a couple of shirts and a pair of denim overalls.

"You know, you look fantastic no matter what you wear," said Jace, glancing at her from the bed. "Particularly," he added, "if you wear nothing."

Clary grinned, and sidled back to the bed. She was too big to skip now, but sidling was manageable.

Jace loved her bump. He seemed to be telling her how amazing she looked now even more than when she was slight and skinny. She would never forget the look on his face when he first saw the tiny bulge between her hipbones, or how amazed he'd been as he kissed her tummy and felt something move, for the first time. She knew he had felt left out at first, when only she could feel the baby inside. Being able to see it, touch it, made it so much more real to him.

When she had first met Jace, fitted all in black and attitude, he was busy skewering a demon in dank nightclub. It had been impossible then, to imagine him him as anything remotely vulnerable. Now, she saw him as a glass lion, beautiful and terrifying on the outside, but made of something so fragile under all his fur and fangs.

The moment he felt movement inside her, he had whispered something so softly that Clary was surprised she could even hear it. He rested for a moment, his cheek pressed against her bare skin, his arms wrapped around her waist like it was a pillar, holding him up. For the shortest of seconds, it was like he had forgotten she existed.

"My baby," he had said, and then looked up at Clary like he was proposing all over again.

She had always known, ever since they became a couple, and possibly even before then, that Jace needed her. It was only recently she was becoming increasingly away of how much. And with that awareness came fear -that fear in the back of her mind, gaining size now that _another _person was depending on her entirely- that made her wonder what would happen to Jace if something happened to her.

She had known, however briefly, what it was like to be without him. The reality of it had barely sunk in before he was returned to her, but even in that short space of time, she had promised herself, that however horrible, that she was resolved to carry on without him. Because he would want her to.

Jace, she knew, would do the same, but she also knew that so much of him would fall apart if she died that what was left behind of Jace could be irreparable.

She had told him when she used her wish to bring him back, _"I don't want anything else in the world." _That was true. All she wanted was Jace -and now their child- to be safe and happy. But there was so much more that she needed in the world.

For her, she wanted Jace more than she needed him. For Jace, want and need came in ample and equal measure.

_If my baby is a girl, we can both worry about him together. If it's a boy... well, I suppose I have enough worry to go around._

Everyone kept asking them what they were having, as if they were almost honour-bound to find out, but Clary wanted it to be a surprise and didn't think it mattered too much, anyway. Whatever Jace said about him being a "questionable role model for a son" she knew he would be fine either way.

Another part of her didn't want to know just in case something happened, as if the baby could be snatched away as easily as the cherubim children in her dreams. She kept having nightmares, only once in a while, about winged children being chased by demons and nameless rune marks carved in blood staining the floor. She had not had dreams since Ithuriel, and so she had no reason to be concerned. She put it down to stress and pushed it to the back of her mind.

* * *

Clary was going was to visit Simon. She hadn't seen him in weeks, and figured she was overdue for some chilling time. After all, in a few months, she doubted she'd have much time to hang out with him at all.

He opened the door to her wearing a dark tee-shirt with the words "Team Vampire" printed across the chest. Clary laughed. She'd given in to him years ago as a joke, not expecting him to wear it.

"Isabelle about?" she asked.

Simon shook his head. "Morocco again," he said, his eyes a little dark.

"Girl can't sit still for a moment." Clary stepped inside and pulled off her coat, dropping it over the back of the couch.

"Dear God," said Simon, "you're huge."

"Cheers, Simon. Nice to see you too."

"Sorry," he said, not really sounding it, "I'm just not used to you being so... round."

"I've been told I'm unusually petite for a pregnant woman, actually. My ankles aren't swollen. My face is isn't huge. My ass is still-"

"Did I say huge? Sorry, I meant gorgeous."

"Better."

"If slightly delusional and crazed."

"I hate you."

"Hormones?"

"Give me coffee, pizza and TV, and I may just forgive you before I die."

"I thought you weren't meant to drink that stuff?"

"My healer advised me that I could have one cup a day. Of course, I never drink it around the house. Jace stares at me like I'm poisoning the baby-"

"Shadowhunter finally found something else to obsess about?"

"Apparently. I almost can't wait until this baby is out of me. He can wrap it in cotton wool instead."

"Great," said Simon tonelessly, as Clary nestled against the couch, folding her legs under her. He tossed her the remote.

"Cheers," she said, and started to flick through the DVD collection.

"I'll grab you a pizza."

He didn't need to ask her want she wanted. He fished out her favourite from the collection in his freezer, and then joined her on the couch, stretching his legs out under the coffee table.

They watched some crazy sitcom for half an hour, speaking only to laugh. Simon got up halfway through to grab the pizza. He piled it all on one plate, taking only a couple of slices for himself. Clary devoured the rest, waiting for Simon's "eating for two" comment that never came. He was unusually quiet.

"Simon, is something wrong?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I'm your best friend and _parabatai _and I know when something's bothering you?"

Simon sighed.

"Is it Isabelle?"

Simon gave her a look as if she'd suddenly developed the ability to read minds. "Why would you say-? Did she say something?"

"She wouldn't need to," Clary said, carefully dodging the truth, "you're edgy enough."

Simon groaned and rolled his face into a nearby pillow. "She's never here," he said. "It's so stupid. She's always racing off over the world and-"

"So why don't you go with her?"

Simon paled a little. "We don't... we don't fight so well together," he said, "not after we became a couple. We were just constantly doing stupid stuff to save each other-"

Clary remembered a big argument the two of them had had, several years ago now, shortly after Simon became her _parabatai. _She remembered Alec making a remark, about how Simon didn't act like a _parabatai _should- his thoughts were not on Clary.

"You could still go with her, when she travels-"

"I don't _like _travelling," Simon protested. "I've been somewhere once and I'm happy. I like home comforts. Moving to Idris was bad enough. Why can't she be happy with that? I mean, what if, at some point..." his voice trailed off, his eyes dropping to Clary.

"What if, what?" she asked.

Simon gestured towards her middle. "_You know!" _he said.

"What if... she was pregnant?"

"Yeah. Someday. Possibly. In the future. It can't be just the two of us forever. I don't _want _it to be just the two of us forever. I may not be the most attentive boyfriend in the world, but I just... I like having her here. But... but I don't want to stand in the way of her dreams, either."

"Oh, god!" Clary rolled her eyes, picking up the nearest throw cushion and hurling it in his face, "You two really need to DTR."

"_Again?_" Simon groaned. "We did that a few years ago."

"Exactly. You need to reappraise every few years or so. Especially after you're officially adults. Only so long you can play the 'we're too young' card."

"You think?"

"Yes, Simon!"

Simon sighed, even more audibly than before. "All right," he said, and then he leapt to his feet. "I have something for you," he said quickly. "I'll go grab it."

He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Clary hanging, and came back moments later with a flat, square package. "Here."

Clary took it suspiciously, rattling it first.

"It's not a bomb!" Simon said, with the first hint of a laugh. "Go on, open up."

She peeled back the wrapping. It was a baby book, with a white cover and fancy gold writing. On the first page was a picture, a tacky, straw-coloured acrylic of four stick-figures with crazy hair and round eyes. It was labelled with big, childish letters "My Family" with big black names next to each of the people- "Mommy, Luke, Me, Simon."

"That's-" Clary knew this picture. She knew it because she'd drawn it, a long, long time ago. "You kept this?"

Simon nodded slowly. "Always."

Clary looked back at the page and imagined another child, _her _child, drawing something similar, with a much bigger Simon standing in his old place. It occurred to her that any baby she had would have more people than this. Clary had only ever had the three of them.

"Getting ready to be an uncle, _parabatai?_" she said, trying to hide the emotion in her voice.

Simon groaned. "You're lucky I managed to convince Isabelle that _this _was an appropriate gift. It was going to pink-leopard baby clothes, otherwise."

Clary rolled her eyes. "Ugh, really? It might be a boy!"

"Isabelle's all for equality."

Clary smiled, and leaned across to hug him. "Thanks, Simon," she said. "It's perfect."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Apologies to Bernards, Esthers and Ausgustuses everywhere.**

**Chapter 3! Kind of a big one. Thanks everyone for your wonderful reviews so far!**

**This chapter seems a bit rushed to me, but we finally get some answers about Celine...**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

For the next few weeks, Clary busied herself with readying the baby's room, ordering paints and designing a mural for the walls, shipping in furniture. Jace had, without her knowledge, taken the crib to a carpenters and had the Fairchild, Lightwood and Graymark family crests carved into the headboard alongside the Herondale one. Never, Clary thought, had a child been born with a claim to so many names.

"So, I was thinking about the baby's surname," said Jace simply, pushing a wardrobe into the corner of the room.

"Oh?" Clary asked.

"Doesn't seem fair to leave out your name. And I'm _still _getting used to Herondale."

Clary stepped up to kiss him on the cheek. "Such a modern man, my husband. We should probably stick with Herondale, though. Shadowhunters are so big on tradition, after all."

"I don't know, their was a Fairchild consul once; her children took her name."

"Oh really? I like the sound of her."

"Fairchild as a middle name?"

"Done."

"Although we have left out the most crucial." He stopped shifting about furniture and slid down to the floor next to Clary. She was flicking through a fabric book. "What are we going to call it?"

"Well, I can promise you it won't be Magnus."

Jace grinned. "That I agree with, wholeheartedly."

"I thought we'd wait, to see what it is. It seems strange to name him or her before they're here-"

"I quite like traditional names," Jace continued. "William, James, Cassandra, Evelyn... that sort of thing."

"As long as we steer away from Bernard, Esther and Augustus."

Jace laughed. "I'm sure we can manage that."

Clary put down her book briefly. "We'll have a think. You find names you really like, and I'll think of ones I really like, and then we'll reach a decision when the baby is here."

"Deal. And now-" Jace went over to a stack of blankets sitting on a rocking chair and pulled out a little book, "I thought maybe I could read some of this..."

"Celine's diary!" Clary made a sound between a gasp and squeal. "I thought you weren't-"

"I changed my mind," he said, "It's not just for me, it's for the baby, too. I want to understand about being a parent before..."

"Before you're actually handed a screaming infant?"

"Yes. That would be preferable."

Jace settled back onto the floor and folded down the pages. "You'll listen?"

Clary nodded, her voice very soft. "You know I will."

"_Today, I started decorating your room, Baby. Imogen sent over the old cradle that Stephen had as a baby. It has seen three generations of Herondale children. It is a beautiful thing, solid ash, carved with the family crest. She had it brought up into the spare room, and all I could think about as I slid it into place was how perfect it will be when I can lie you in it for the first time._

_After it arrived, I couldn't stop! I starting to tear down the wallpaper and made quite the mess of it. Luckily Jocelyn arrived for a surprise visit and helped me with it, offering to paint the walls for me. I am hopeless with anything like that, so I accepted her offer._

_I had another appointment with the healer this afternoon. She told me she I was having a boy. My son. You're my son._

_When Stephen got home this evening, it was to find me in a nursery covered sitting in a nest of wallpaper peelings and swatches of fabric. I told him about you, and he pulled me off the floor and up into his arms. He kissed my stomach where you lay, sleeping. I can feel you there now, although you are barely more than a bulge between my hips._

_He told me something I will never forget. "I know you thought that you wouldn't be able to make me happy, Celine, but you have. You have made me happier than I ever thought possible. And I hope -somehow- that I've been able to make you happy, too."_

_Oh, Stephen. He has made me so happy. We married each other as almost strangers, but he was so easy to love. So kind and charming and funny, with his wry smile, irresistible looks. Oh, he makes me laugh, your father! I hope I can make him understand, eventually. Just how much he means he means to me..."_

* * *

_Clary was watching a young child. It had untidy hair and a pair of cat ears; a warlock child. It was running about a beach, with other strange children, ones with tails, or whiskers, and a couple of werewolf pups. Among the children was one with feathery wings, a bright smile. _

_Clary didn't understand the rules of the game, but eventually they all collapsed on the sand around the cherub-child, who gathered a nearby stick and started during pictures in the sand. _

_No, not pictures, runes._

_The stick vanished, living a stele in its place. _

_The warlock child with the cat-ears stuck out his hand. The little cherub took it, and Clary wanted to cry out -wait, stop, don't- but the stele had already made contact with the warlock's skin. He let out a loud, soundless cry, lost under the crash of waves. _

_Several of the children started to run. Clary could feel their wails pass through her like, touch her heart like frost. The warlock child sat on the sand, flailing, screaming, while white smoke rose from the back of his hand. _

_But he did not die. _

_The storm clouds simmered. The waves grew flat and silent. The child stop shaking, and sat up._

_His ears were gone. _

_A silver storm gathered overhead and swept across the sea. The waves rushed up to Clary's feet and the children vanished like spectres. The seas rolled back, the clouds drew away, and a rune was left in the sand._

Jace's arms wrapped around her in bed and pressed the hollow of her back against the curve of his bare stomach. "Good morning," he whispered, and let a hand slide to her belly. "Good morning."

"Morning," Clary murmured sleepily. "I keep having the strangest of dreams."

"Hmm, really? What about?"

"About a little child with wings."

"Fascinating," said Jace, kissing her neck.

"I'm serious!" Clary rolled upright, suddenly awake. "They're really strange, Jace. Not like normal dreams. They're like... they're like the ones Ithuriel sent."

"Ithuriel's gone," Jace reminded her. "So they can't be."

"I know," Clary shook her head, trying to shake the dreams away. "I know they can't be. Maybe I'm just stressed."

"Baby keeping you up?"

"Sometimes. I've decided it must be a boy. It's jumping around in there like you no end."

Jace laughed, rubbing his warm hand across her tight, round flesh. "Maybe just an athletic girl?"

"I refuse to believe that any girl would be this mean to her mother."

Before Jace could think of a suitable reply, there came the light trilling of the doorbell through the house.

Clary groaned. "That'll be Isabelle," she sighed. "If she's brought any more gifts, send her away."

Isabelle stayed for a couple of hours, chatting inanely, telling Clary how much she like what she'd done with the place in an almost completely sincere manner. Just before lunch, she made her excuses and left, leaving the couple to continue with their usual routine of cleaning the kitchen and sorting the mail. Clary slid into a seat next to Jace with a warm, low-caffeine substitute drink. He was flicking through the post.

"Anything interesting?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not much. Another letter from Magnus and Alec. Magnus still wants to be midwife."

"Tell Magnus he can-"

"Mood swings, dear-"

"Sorry," said Clary, not really meaning it.

"He makes a good case, you know. He reminds me that birth can be quite an intimate experience and says you might feel more comfortable with someone familiar with your-"

"Yes, I know. That you for reminding me about that little episode in my life."

"In all seriousness," Jace said, putting the letter back down, "do we _have _a birth plan? I know that mundane women sometimes have these strange ideas... giving birth in pools, upside-down... whatever."

Clary exhaled. "I'm not a mundane, Jace."

"I know, but you were brought up like one. I thought maybe-"

"Maybe, back before I was sixteen, I envisioned giving birth in a bath? No."

"So... we don't have a birth plan."

"Oh, we have a birth plan."

"We do?"

"Yes. It's called, _call a midwife, don't freak out, and let me yell out all the expletives I like at you."_

* * *

**A/N: Hmm. I'm really not happy with this chapter. But as Macbeth said... what's done is done. Luckily, I'm referring to bad prose and not killing someone.**

**PLEASE REVIEW. Over 200 people read the last chapter... 7 REVIEWED. I'm not a Maths teacher, but... c'mon, guys. (Wow, maybe I shouldn't be an English teacher, either) **

**I will start holding chapters hostage. I will be that person. **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: The completion of Celine's story, because I didn't want to drag it out, even though pace-wise it could do with being staggered. (Yes, I critique my own work, ssssh!)**

* * *

That night, Clary and Jace reached the final few pages of Celine's diary. They had been reading a few pages every day, taking turns to read aloud. The previous evening, Celine been talking about going shopping with Imogen the next day and about how the baby was making her very uncomfortable. Jace would twitch nervously at Clary's side almost every time he was mentioned in her words, but Clary could sense that something else was bothering him now. Because, sooner or later, Celine's diary would stop.

It was Clary's turn to read, which was just as well, because the second she opened it, she saw the lines of ink on the back of the page growing dangerously thin. She swallowed, already knowing what was going to happen.

_"Stephen has gone, along with most of the other Shadowhunters fit and able. Uprisings. He has been gone many times before, but something is different about this time. I am afraid, Baby. Jocelyn wanted me to stay with her while the others went off to fight, but I couldn't. I wanted to be in my home, our home, waiting for your father._

_"It has been several hours now. He will be back soon, I'm sure. Years from now, I'll read this back to myself and laugh, thinking how silly I was. I'll probably be able to hear Stephen in the next room, playing with you and your many brothers and sisters. It will all seem so ridiculous then, when this accursed war is over._

_"He'll be home soon, Baby."_

Clary looked up at Jace, searching his features for any clues as to what he was thinking. His face was white and taut, stretched over his bones like a mask. She could only imagine what was going through his mind, wondering if he was thinking, like she was, about the future Celine envisioned.

"That's it?" he asked.

Clary shook her head. She almost wished it was, because what came next could not be good, could not do Jace anything other than harm.

"Read it."

"Jace-"

"Just do it, Clary."

She swallowed, exhaling, and started the final chapter. The ink was scrawled and messy, splattered and splotched so that several of the words were almost intelligible, barely resembling writing at at all.

_"Oh, my dearest Baby, I can barely write. My hands are shaking. I can feel my heartbeat in my ears and its the worst sound in the world, reminding me that your father- your father's heart beats no more. Word has just reached me that Stephen has been killed. I don't know what to do, Baby. I wish that you were here already, that I could take you in my arms and however small and tiny you are that weight would hold me up, keep me rooted to the world when everything else is gone. But I guess you are here, aren't you Baby? I can feel you inside me, kicking away, making your presence known, holding me here. I don't want to live in a world without Stephen in it, but Stephen _is _still in it. You're here, or will be very soon. I won't give up, Baby, not ever. Not as long as you're in the world. I will fight to keep you. You will be safe, happy, and loved. I promise you, Baby. I promise."_

Clary stopped, closing the book quietly and placing it down, unable to tear her eyes from Jace. They were locked in place, waiting for him to speak.

"And a few hours after that, she slit her wrists," he said, as bluntly as if he were reading out the shopping list. "Cheers, Mom, some promise."

"No, Jace," Clary reached across and took his hand, fighting against his urge to pull away. Tears studded her eyes. "I don't think she did."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't believe that any mother, after promising that to her child... they wouldn't do what they said she did. She _couldn't._"

Jace shook his head, more forcefully than was necessary. "But she _must _have! She _did. _You can't know..."

Clary placed a hand over her swollen bump and closed her eyes. "No, Jace, I do know. Believe me. She said... she said she would _fight to keep you._ Do you not think-"

Jace swallowed, his face gray. "Valentine."

"He knew she would never give you up. He always knew he was going to have to take you by force. Maybe he used Stephen's death as an excuse, or maybe he orchestrated the whole thing-"

"And had them both killed." Jace's voice was dark. "You have to admit, that sounds like Valentine. He wasn't exactly one to leave things to chance."

Clary nodded, and gripped his shoulders, kneeling closer towards him, hating Valentine even more. Even now, there were still ways he found to hurt Jace. Clary thanked her mother silently, for getting out of that place, for making sure her daughter never had to know Valentine like Jace did.

"Jace," Clary was lost for words of comfort. What was there she could say? _I'm sorry your father killed your mother?_

And Jace had said it before. You didn't mean _"sorry_", you meant, "_I share your pain."_

"She didn't kill herself," Jace said slowly, as if the reality could only be made tangible by speaking.

"No," Clary said clearly, "she didn't."

"She wanted to live. She tried to... she wanted me."

"Of course she did," Clary cupped Jace's face in her hands, stroked back his hair. "Why, Jace, does that still surprise you, after all this time?"

"I just... I never thought..." his voice stumbled. "It just means something. Knowing that this person I never knew... loved me, before I even existed. How cool is that?"

Clary laughed, and felt tears trickle down her cheeks. "Very cool."

Jace bent down and rested his head against Clary's chest, wrapping his arms around her back. She could feel him listening to her heart, and the heart of the child inside her. How was it that he could love this baby before it was born, and not understand that his mother felt the same? _Stupid Jace. Poor, stupid Jace._

"I love you," she said.

Jase smiled. "I know," he said. "I love you," he kissed her stomach. _You too. _

* * *

**A/N: According to Cassandra Clare, this actually happened, and Valentine probably did take Celine's life himself. It seems to make sense- how else was he planning to take the baby from her? I toyed with Jace finding out his "real name" but decided against it- partly because I can't think of anything other than "Jace" that suits him, and also because I didn't want to confuse the poor boy! I really hope he can move on with his life now...**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I got so many reviews for yesterday's chapter that I decided to post TWO today! Don't ever say I never gave you anything. **

* * *

Clary did a final stroke of her brush, and stepped well back to admire her work. It was the biggest piece she'd ever done with her mother's help. She was used to standing back and thinking there was something off about her artwork, some small imperfection. A dodgy arm, an asymmetric face, a crooked wing- something that only she could see but stopped it being perfect. She felt nothing like that with this.

It was a great big oak, different from the spindly silhouettes she'd painted on the landing. It took up the whole of the wall, its branches towering into the point of the ceiling, below a sky studded with stars. It was daylight in the bottom half of wall, bright light raying through the leaves, illuminating a backdrop of glittering rivers and sun-kissed meadows. She wanted her child to see the stars every day, and the sun every night.

She hadn't been able to resist added a few characters into the landscape. They were painted with their backs towards them, staring out at the hills. On one side of the tree, there were four children, three boys and a girl. Three of them had dark hair, one of them blond. They were running down where the river hit the meadow, and although you couldn't see their faces, Clary had painted them happy. The Lightwood children. Alec, Isabelle, Max and Jace. Their parents stood in the foreground, arm in arm, watching over.

On the other side of the tree stood Luke, Jocelyn, Felicity and Simon. Luke and Jocelyn were holding hands, and Simon was chasing Felicity through the long grass, dappled with flowers. She was running towards the other children, as if she could see them, as if she had grown up with them and they had known her all her life...

The crowning glory of the piece came from the portraits Clary was hanging in the branches. Maryse, Robert, Luke and Jocelyn all hung in a line, while the children -all six of them- sat underneath, joined together by the wedding photo of Clary and Jace.

"This," she said triumphantly, smiling right down to the tips of her toes, "is our family."

The baby gave a sudden kick, as if it agreed with her wholeheartedly.

"Jace!" she called, her voice reverberating throughout the house. "Come here!"

Within a flash, Jace had arrived at the door. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

Clary groaned. She was just passed the eight month milestone, which meant Jace was tiptoeing around her like porcelain, sure the slightest wrong move was going to send her into premature labour. The breakfasts in bed were nice. His decision to fill the house with Mozart "because it makes babies smarter!" and ban all forms of rock music, however, was not.

"Jace, look around you!"

Jace stared up at the mural on the wall, his eyes widening. For minutes, he didn't speak, just letting his eyes wander over every detail, his hand hovering over the still wet-paint. He stayed a little longer over a Max, straying over the figures of his family. "This- this is amazing, Clary."

Clary beamed. "I'm rather proud of it myself. This one seems to like it too." she rested her hands on her substantial middle.

"I'm not surprised. He or she has good taste." He crossed the room, stroking a feather-light hand across her cheek and kissing her lips. He drew back with a smile. "You have paint on your... everywhere."

Clary looked down at her paint splattered fingers and smeared overalls and shrugged. "I'm going to have a soak, and then I think I'm going to head into New York. Mom has some things she wants to give to me."

"You sure it's OK for you to-"

"I'm _fine, _Jace."

"All right," he said, "but I'll accompany you halfway there. I need to see Alec."

Clary nodded. "Give me half an hour."

An hour later, arm in arm, they headed over the portal and out into the bustling streets of New York. Jace made Clary promise to take a cab, which she ignored more out of stubbornness than thriftiness. As she hobbled along the subway station, she came to regret her decision almost immediately. Nevertheless, she was determined not to give up, although she did blame Jace in the back of her mind for not anticipating her stubbornness would prevent her from doing whatever he suggested. He should have told her to get the subway, and she could be cursing _him _for his thriftiness instead.

Clary was half a block from her parents house when she heard something dart behind her. She thought she saw a dark shape in the corner of her eye, but she must have been mistaken. Nothing human could move that quickly, and the sensor in her pocket was still and quiet.

She shrugged it off and walked on, thinking enviously of the soft sofas at Jocelyn's, the comforting smell of turpentine and cooking.

Clary could practically taste the sweet soft dough of her mother's speciality cookies, when a cold rag reeking of sour sweetness flooded her mouth.

Clary recoiled, struggling, as the hand clamp fiercely around her face. Arms gathered round her, faces clouded her line of sight, surging into faint shapes and dim figures. She felt her strength slipping away, blackness creeping in. She tried to cry out, to move, but she couldn't. Her legs sank away.

A voice, cold and quiet, hummed in her ears.

"Sleep now, Mrs. Fairchild. You don't want to hurt the baby..."

* * *

Jace had been at Alec's for an hour, catching up on some much needed sparring, before they took a break. Alec was dripping with sweat and gasping like he'd just run a marathon, but Jace was almost as cool as when they started.

"Mind if I use your phone?" he asked. "I just wanted to check Clary got to her mom's okay."

"Sure," Alec panted. "Although I think you're being _way_ overprotective. If Clary ran into any trouble on her journey, well... I'd be more worried about the trouble."

Jace grinned, flinging a towel in Alec's direction. He crawled off the couch. "I'm getting a drink. You want?"

"Please."

Alec left the room and Jace picked up the phone, punching in the number of Luke and Jocelyn's place. A little voice picked up on the third ring.

"Ello?"

"Fleecy," Jace heard an unconscious smile rising in his voice. "It's Jace. Is your sister there?"

"No," she said plainly.

"Seriously, Fleece. I need to speak to her."

"She's not here..."

Jace felt his heart rate quicken. "Can you go get your mother for me?"

A few horribly long seconds later, he heard Jocelyn's voice on the end of the line. "Jace? What's up?"

"Fleecy says Clary's not with you."

"Well, she'd be right."

"You're sure?"

"I think I'd know if my own daughter was here." There was pause. When she spoke again, Jocelyn's voice was anxious. "Jace, what's going on?"

"She's supposed to be there. I left her over an hour ago. She said she was getting a cab-"

"When has Clary _ever _done what she's told? She probably just got the subway, surely..."

"It wouldn't have taken that long."

Jocelyn's voice tightened. "Hold on. Luke's going outside. He's going to see if he can get her trail."

"He can do that?"

"Having a werewolf husband has its perks." Her voice tried to sound light, but it just sounded forced. "Perhaps you should ring Simon? I think he's in New York this weekend? Maybe she's with him."

"On it."

Simon picked up almost immediately. "Yo," he said. "Who's this?"

"It's Jace," he said hurriedly. "I'm calling from Magnus and Alec's. Please tell me Clary's with you."

"No," a stunned silence pressing out between them. "What's wrong?"

"Clary's missing," the severity of the situation hit him like a physical punch. "She was meant to be visiting Jocelyn. She's not here."

Jace could tell by the silence that Simon was almost as worried as he was. "What do we do?" he asked eventually.

"I don't know. Luke's out sniffing for clues. I mean that in the literal sense. I'm just waiting-" there was a sudden beeping. "That's the other line. Hold on."

It was Jocelyn. "Jace, Luke caught Clary's scent half a block away. She _was _on her way here, but... Luke's called Bat and Maia. They're going to follow the trail. How soon can you get here?"

"Soon," Jace said, "very soon." He switched back over to Simon. "Grab your sword, Shadowhunter. We're moving out."

* * *

**A/N: GASP! What's going to happen?**

**I may or may not have the next chapter waiting. This is not a subtle hint. **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Look at my super-fast updates!**

* * *

Clary woke staring up a high glass ceiling, her nostrils still full of the sickly sweet scent that made her feel drowsy and sick. She was lying on a cold, stone alter, her wrists bound above her head, her ankles shackled. Hot, familiar pain jolted her bones whenever she moved. She knew this pain; it was the same binds Valentine had used on her six years ago.

She could still move her head. A quick scan around the room revealed she was in a warehouse of some kind. It stank of oil and machinery, a thick layer of dust and grime carpeting the floor.

She soon realised she was not alone. About twelve people were lined up around the edges of the room, whispering excitedly, some sharing anxious glances and avoiding her gaze. Although some of them looked human, most of them were warlocks, defined by coloured skin, strange noses, tails. Two of them standing in the shade, far away from the rays of dying sun, could only have been vampires, and at least one of the other characters was a faery and Clary would not have been surprised to learn if the remaining ones were werewolves.

_What is this place?_

A door clicked open outside of Clary's line of sight, and someone in a pin-stripe suit with frayed black wings leered over her.

"Ah," he said, a little disappointedly, "you're awake."

Clary was surprised and relieved to find out that she could speak. "You," was all she could think to say. "What do you want with me?"

The warlock smiled. There was something almost like sympathy in his gaze. "Alas, it's not you, Clarissa Fairchild, that I am after," he placed a cold hand on Clary's stomach, "but something much more precious."

Clary squirmed away from him, lightning pains shooting up her legs. She cried out.

"Careful now, don't hurt the baby."

Clary stopped struggling. It would do no good, and she was afraid of what he said. She had no idea what this could be doing to the child inside her.

"What... what do you want with my baby? Who the hell are you? Who the hell are _they-?" _she cast her gaze out to the spectators. "What kind of freak show are you playing?"

The Warlock narrowed his eyes, but only lightly. "_They-_" he said, "are my family."

"Your family? No offence, but I can't see the resemblance."

"Of course you can't. With you and your Shadowhunter kind, it's all about the _blood, _isn't it?"

Clary wanted to argue that she didn't think this at all, but somehow she didn't think the Warlock cared that she had all of two blood relatives in the world and a family of a nearly a dozen. "Blood is what binds you together. Blood is what makes you _special. _I understand, Clarissa, I do. I was bound to someone by blood once too, you know. I had a twin brother. Our mother abandoned us when we were born, ashamed, I suppose, to have given birth to... _freaks,_" he flexed his wings, arching his eyebrows, as if the word were completely beyond him. "But I always had my brother. Until the day your father killed him. Using him, I believe, in his quest to rid the whole of our kind forever. I am told it was not a pleasant death."

"I.. I'm sorry," Clary said, a part of her meaning it. "But I'm not my father. And even if he were still alive, he wouldn't care that you were doing this to me-"

"Oh, this isn't about r_evenge, _dear girl! Don't misunderstand. I am above such pettiness."

"Then what-"

"Darling," he said, and placed his hand back on her bump, making her skin wriggle. "Haven't you ever thought about what it is you're carrying?"

"I'm carrying a _baby_!" said Clary desperately. "The midwife said it's healthy and fine-"

"Oh, it's more than fine. More than simply healthy. A baby, yes. Like you, or your husband were. Or that devil of a brother-"

"MY BABY IS NOT LIKE THAT!"

"No," he said, gazing at Clary as if she some kind of celestial jewel. "It's something much more precious."

"What on Earth are your talking about?"

The warlock smiled. "For it is written," he said, "_that the child of the angels shall be the Maker of Runes, and they shall lead us into chaos and creation, destruction and salvation._"

"What... what does that even _mean_? Child of the angels? I'm not an angel, neither is Jace-"

The minute she spoke, Clary realised her mistake. She had a flashback, and old dream, of Jace standing on the top of a high building, white wings spanning behind him. She remained Ithuriel, bound and tortured, trapped in the Wayland basement. Not literal angels, but more angel than most shadowhunters. More angel than any of them.

In all the time she had been pregnant, Clary had worried about Jace, or the baby's health, or if she would make a good mother. She had never spared a moment to wonder if the child would have powers like theirs, an action she deeply regretted now.

The warlock grinned. "Do you understand now, Clarissa? Your baby is special. Its coming has been foretold. A true Runemaker."

"Runemaker?" Clary's voice tripped. "But _I _can make runes-"

"You can recall what others cannot," he said. "It is not the same. If I told you to create a rune for toppling down a building, half way across the world, could you do it? Or a rune to reverse Lycanthropy?"

"No, because those runes don't _exist-"_

"Not yet," his smiled widened, and he rubbed her bump as he was the expectant father. "But soon."

"You're crazy."

"No," he said, his tone suddenly darkening, "I'm not. I'm not going to hurt your child, you know. I'm going to raise it. I'm going to bring it up with the help of my family here. A downworlder child, practically. Completely capable of understanding our plight. You have no idea of the child's potential. What it could do. I want the peace that is preached to us, I just don't trust you Shadowhunters to get it. For a thousand years you've fought to protect the world from demons, and you always manage somehow to screw it up, fighting amongst yourselves. Pretty soon you would just fight over the child as well. It's so much more than a weapon..."

"No one," Clary said resolutely, tears creeping in behind her eyes, "will ever, _ever _hurt my child."

"Oh, but they will," he nodded his head sadly. "You may be shadowhunters, but you're still humans. And humans will always fight, squabbling over power, fighting over who has most of it, and destroy themselves in the process. Human nature," his eyes glinted. "A pitiful excuse."

A young faery girl tiptoed up to the warlock's side, offering up a mug of clear, steaming liquid.

"Malock," she said, "we've got everything ready."

Somebody wheeled in a table, covered in a thin sheet. Clary could just make out a basin, and a couple of long, thin instruments.

"Thank you, Thaya," said Malock, and took the container from her. He held it close to Clary's face. "I'm afraid, my dear, it's time for you to go. I would encourage you to co-operate, at this point. It's really not going to be pleasant for you otherwise. Please, drink this."

Will all the strength she could muster, Clary drew back her chin and spat in his face. The drink clattered to the ground with a hiss.

Malock wiped the spit off his face with a corner of the cloth. "What a shame," he said, and flung back the sheet. Clary sucked in her breath. The table was full of knives. He picked up the first -a stele- and held it against her throat. "Hard way it is."

* * *

**A/N: Major noes! All the drama! Will Clary be rescued in time? Will her baby be all right? That's all coming up next on, the Powerpuff Girls- I mean, er, the City of Life fanfic.**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Rescue time!**

* * *

Jace had wasted no time in amounting his forces. A minute after he had put the phone down, he was moving out, Alec in tow, leaving Magnus with instructions to contact the Institute. By the time he made it to Luke and Jocelyn's, Isabelle and Simon were already there, looking almost as awful as he felt.

"Jace-" Isabelle stepped up towards him, her arms outstretched. He held up his hand.

"No time, Isabelle. We have to move _now. _Do we have any idea-"

"We have a pretty good idea," Luke stepped up. "Someone tried to mask the trail, but badly. Nothing a pack of wolves couldn't track. They're following it downtown."

"Is everyone armed?"

"With fangs if nothing else."

"Then we move."

Leaving Jocelyn, white-faced and worried, to watch Fleecy, the rest of them headed out. There were eight of them in total, four Shadowhunters, Luke, Maia, Bat, and Magnus.

Running was doing Jace good. He didn't need to think when he was moving. His feet where moving, one in front of the other, without any thought on his part. It was only when he was standing still, whenever they reached a point where the trail dimmed, that he had time to be worried. Time to think of Clary, and dwell on all the things that could be happening to her. Why had she been taken? What did anyone want with her?

His mind flashed back to that incident, several months ago, with the warlock. The one she'd been afraid of, the one whom everyone else thought was a fluke. Had Clary been right to be concerned? He'd spent the last few months worrying about her eating habits, if he would make a good father, about his mother and a dozen other little things that all seemed so pointless to him now. There was nothing, nothing in the world worth worrying about more than Clary and their child. As long as the two were safe, there was nothing for him to fear for.

_Angel, let me find them safe. I beg you._

The pack slowed to a close, two other wolves slinking forward out of the shadows and into the lamplight. Jace hadn't realised the sun had set. They were outside an abandoned warehouse. Somewhere, deep inside his thoughts, there was enough space to muse on just how many of these they're seemed to be.

"Someone should really start developing these," said Alec, as if reading his thoughts. "They're like, demon hang out zones."

Luke shifted back into his human form. "There aren't any demons inside," he said. "There's at least two vampires, a couple of wolves... and several other downworlders. Be prepared."

Everyone nodded, and them Simon and Isabelle sprung up to the steel doors and slid them open.

The first thing Jace saw was Clary up on the stone table, her hands and ankles bound, shackled and marked and still. Cold anger flooded Jace's veins.

_Is this how my mother looked, before Valentine killed her?_

"Clary-"

She turned to face him, a muffled cry breaching her lips as the runes cut into her. Jace felt his own body flinch with pain.

He wanted to speak, to demand they release her, but he didn't trust the strength of his own words, didn't trust himself to say anything other than _I will tear you limb from limb._

Luckily, the enemy made the first move. There were no moral dilemmas, no needing to worry about preserving the lives of the other downworlders, assessing the depths of their involvement. The second the first one sprang, Jace was moving.

"Get to Clary," Luke said, as if he needed to be told. "We'll cover you."

A rogue wolf beelined towards Jace as he made for the table, but Luke had already shifted, slamming into his side and sinking his fangs into his throat. Blood and fur spurted across the concrete. A vampire shot at him next, but Simon was on him, knocking him to ground, teeth bare.

Jace reach the side of the table and went to draw his stele, and caught a flash of a blade in the corner of his eye.

"My name," said the warlock, his eyes wide and glaring, protruding out of his skull like they could burst from his sockets. Jace couldn't help but imagine is picture in the dictionary next the description of 'insane'. "Is Malock. And that child is _mine._"

Jace didn't waste time he talking to him. He parried has attack, returning it with a slice that narrowly missed his ear.

"You have no idea, do you?" Malock laughed hysterically, dodging another swipe. "What your wife carries? What your child is capable of?"

For a split second, Jace froze. The hesitation cost him. Malock's blade made a drive for his chest. Jace moved, twisting, losing his footing on the stairs and crashing to the ground. The sword grated against the floor. He kicked Malock's chest, forcing him backwards and flipping to his feet.

"All I know," he said, "is that it's _our child, _and no freak like you is going to lay a hand on it."

"You clueless boy..."

Malock made a charge for Jace, but it was poorly timed. Jace saw an opening under his left arm and rammed his blade into his flesh, twisting for good measure. "Any child of Clary's," he hissed into his ear, as the weight began to pull him to the floor, "will be perfect."

"Perfect?" Malock grinned, blood seeping through the gaps in his teeth. "Yes... yes... you could say that... for it... it is written... t_he child of the angels shall be the Maker of Runes... and they shall lead us into chaos and creation... destruction and salvation..." _Malock laughed. "Do you really think you can handle that, little Shadowhunters?"

"Yeah," replied Jace resolutely, "and probably a damn lot better than you."

Jace removed his seraph blade from under Malock's ribcage and let him fall to the floor. Within seconds, he was gone. Jace wasted no time in watching him, no time in gloating. He was by the altar, severing Clary's bonds with his stele.

"Clary..."

He lifted her off the table and onto the ground, resting her against his lap. Her arms were around his neck, clutching him fearfully in a way he'd thought of associating with Clary before.

"Usually, I hate being the damsel in distress," she whispered, pressing herself into him. "But in this case, I well and truly forgive you. Jace..." Tears eased out of Clary's eyes.

"It's all right," Jace said soothingly, his hands stroking her hair, her back, her face. "I've got you."

"How did you find me?"

Jace smiled, cupping her face. "I just listened out for the sound of someone not doing what they were told, and followed that."

He sat there holding her while the others rounded up the few remaining followers. A couple of them had fled the second trouble showed, clearly not as loyal to Malock as he believed. A few of them lay dead on the ground, like the wolf that Luke had dispatched, but most had given themselves up after a half-hearted fight. Isabelle was binding them with her stele when Luke pried them apart.

He crouched down by Clary's side, reaching out a hand to touch her cheek. "Are you-"

"I'm fine, Dad. You should look at yourself!" Clary smiled wearily. "You're bleeding, you know? Mom will freak. Do you want me to- what's wrong?"

Luke was staring at her as if she'd suddenly grown horns. He blinked at her.

"Luke?" Clary continued, "What is it?"

Smiling and shaking his head, Luke stood up. "Never mind, Clary. I'll be fine. I better..." he drifted off, back towards the others, still looking slightly baffled.

Clary turned back to Jace. "What?"

"Nothing. Come on, we should get you to a hospital."

"I'm not hurt," she said solidly. "I really just want to go home. We can always call the healer around later, after I've had a rest."

"Clary-"

"Please, Jace. Take me home."

* * *

Clary was silent the entire journey as Jace summoned a cab, carried her through the Institute, and fetched a carriage to take them back to the manor. It wasn't until they were nearly home she spoke at all.

"Did you hear what he was saying, Jace?"

"I did hear, and I am quite certain he was clinically insane."

"But... but Jace, our baby-"

"It was nonsense Clary, don't listen to him."

"But it makes sense! I mean, you and I can both do things that no one else can. It makes sense that our child will do things too-"

"Then they'll do things too! It's never exactly been an problem for us!"

"A rune_maker, _Jace. Not someone who can just recall runes others cannot. Someone who could make entirely new ones. Only Angels have that power, you said or yourself. No baby should have that! What if they make a rune for ending the world, or killing or downworlders, or something-"

"Clary," Jace clasped her arms tightly, "this is _our _child. It won't be Valentine. It will be like us- when have we ever abused our power?"

Clary fixed him with a cold stare.

"All right, when have _you _ever abused your power? You've only ever done brilliant things with it. Our child will be like you. Don't think of it doing terrible things, think of it doing great ones."

"And what... what if it can't control them?"

"Then we will cross that bridge when we come to it."

Clary pressed her forehead to Jace's chest and breathed in, deeply, her fingers curled into his shirt. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good. Because I didn't want to mention this earlier with all the drama, and I knew you would never let me use the portal if I said, and I really, really wanted to get home, but..."

"Clary?"

"Jace, my waters broke an hour ago."

* * *

**A/N: Oh my! So, the little "angel" is finally on its way... what do you think? Boy or girl? (People who read the old one are FORBIDDEN from voting! I will change it. I will give her TWINS! I know I said I wouldn't, but I will!)Will anything else remotely dramatic happen to the Herondale-Fairchilds, or is everything going to end all sunshine and rainbows?**

**There's also one more "surprise"... a surprise midwife! And sadly **_**not **_**Chummy from the BBC's amazing new series, "Call the Midwife". Love that show.**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I don't know if there are phones in Idris. I know there aren't cars, but I figure it makes sense to have old-fashioned landlines, at least within Idris itself. Can't be easy to communicate by letter (or the wizard-letter-fire thingamy) all the time. Give me some creative license!**

**I'm also sure they don't have the internet. Clary was just being funny.**

* * *

The carriage pulled to a stop five minutes later, with Jace practically carrying Clary into the house despite her insistence that she could walk. The minute they crossed the threshold, he started running back and forth like a ball on a string, moving at twice his usual speed.

"Jace," said Clary between her teeth.

"Baby," Jace babbled. "The baby is coming. Baby coming. Comingbabyiscoming. Babyiscoming."

"Jace..."

"What do we do? WhatdoIdo? Do? Plan. There'saplan. PLAN!"

"JACE! CALM DOWN."

With a sharp snap, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Jace, you need to call the midwife. Can you do that?"

"What? Yes. Of course I can do that!" he raced off in the direction of kitchen, only to bounce back a second later. "How? Where?"

Clary groaned, dull pain clutching her limbs. "You don't _know? _You were one that was so insistent we have a plan!"

"But I'm not ready! _You're _not ready! We were supposed to have another month! You're not cooked!"

_"Cooked?_" Clary glared. "I'm not an egg!"

"This is too soon. Too soon."

"Jace, plenty of baby's are born at eight months. Including you. Now get me my midwife! The number is on the kitchen side..."

"What about-"

"I'll be upstairs," said Clary forcefully, "now move!"

She had only made it to the first landing by the time Jace was done with the summoning the midwife. He caught up with her easily, which was just as well, as the last few steps had proven quite a challenge. By the time she reached the bedroom, flung away the heavy quilt, and sat down, she was exhausted.

Jace was hovering at her elbow like a frightened bird.

"What did the midwife say?" she asked.

"Er..." his face paled even further.

"What?"

"She's out on call. Her assistant said she'd phone us back."

"Great," Clary swore through gritted teeth, and then struggled to compose herself.

_At least one of us needs to be calm._

"That's fine, I'm sure. Childbirth is supposed to take hours, right? Especially with the first-"

Clary's sentence finished in a low moan. She felt like she wanted to be sick. Jace rubbed her back, trying to be helpful, when the phone rang.

"I better-" Jace leapt up to grab it. Clary wished he hadn't, wished he had some mystical power to summon it to straight to him. She wanted -needed- him here with her right now.

_This is too soon, I'm not ready. I'm not ready. This wasn't meant to happen-_

"Jace!" she cried.

Jace rushed back into the room. "That was the midwife you wanted," he said briskly. "Although I can't see quite why. She was really very rude and _completely _unnecessarily too! She's with another patient who is 'almost finished' and basically said your contractions can't be coming too fast, hold on until she gets here. Horrid woman."

"That's... that's _fine._.." Clary said, and then felt her insides splitting apart. "Wait. No it isn't."

"Clary-"

Clary doubled over in pain reached out to grab him. "Call the hospital," she said, "call my mother. Contact the _Clave _if you have to! Update _facebook._ Just do something!"

Jace ran off. Clary tried to make a list in her head of things she was going to need, trying to remember where they were in the house. She couldn't for the life of her remember anything in those books she'd been reading. Should she be walking, resting, panting?

She got some spare sheets out of the closet and perched them on the end of the bed, already too tired to get up again. Another contraction burned through her body.

Jace slid back into the room.

"I've sent out the word," he said breathlessly. "Can I... can I get anything? Anything you want?"

"What I _want,_" Clary hissed, "is for you never, _ever_ to get me pregnant again! Are we clear?"

"Perhaps we can talk about that-"

"ARE WE CLEAR?"

Jace nodded, and tried to kiss her brow. She swatted him off. "Go away!"

He jumped back towards the door, but barely got more than a few paces before she cried out again.

"Wait," she said. "Wait! I need something!"

"Yes? What do you need? Hot towels? Water? Massage? What?"

"I need... a pen... and paper."

"What?"

"NOW, JACE!"

Jace complied, sprinting to her bedside table and fetching out her sketch pad and pencils. She must have got half a dozen of them, all over the house.

Clary snatched it from his grasp and scribbled several hurried lines.

"What do you need this for?" he frowned.

"There's just... there's something in my head... and I need to get it out, _now!_"

"There's something else you need to get out, now." Jace said unhelpfully. "Something a little more pressing."

"No, no I need to do this now. Otherwise... I won't remember. Afterwards. It's important."

Clary finished off the mass of dark, tangled lines and flung aside, griping the bed frame and moaning.

"Jace-"

Jace moved in closely and took her hand. "I'm right here, Clary."

"Jace, I'm sacred."

"I know."

"What if the midwife doesn't get here in time..."

"I'm sure she will."

"I don't know," Clary said weakly, "they're getting pretty _close..._"

Clary's insides heaved against every single one of her organs. She felt her whole body shake and creak, like a building threatening to collapse. God, this awful. Why hadn't anyone told her how bad it was going to be? She had a new found respect for every single mother in the world, and if she survived this, was going to apologise to her own mother profusely.

"I hate you," she groaned, "so much."

Jace's face was white and very serious. "I know."

Somebody burst through the double doors in a manner so extravagant Clary was surprised he wasn't accompanied by a singing chorus. He was, however, accompanied by an apron so large and frilly it deserved to be counted as a separate entity.

Magnus Bane had arrived.

"It's all right!" he declared, "Midwife Magnus is here!"

Clary suggested he do something anatomically impossible.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she screamed.

"Touchy! Honestly, I spend all these years attending to each and every little hiccup you guys have, and when finally something interesting happens, I'm rendered redundant? I'm deeply hurt."

"What I think she means is," said Jace, trying to coax her back against the pillows, "that you're not _really _a midwife. And... why are you wearing an apron?"

"I was going to a tea party. I was baking my famous apple strudel... and I object! I might not have been a midwife in 1950's London but I at least know my way around a woman's-"

"JACE!" Clary's nails dug into his forearm. "Get him out of here and get me my-" her last word was lost to a low scream.

"I do believe I might be the only person in the vicinity remotely qualified to deliver this baby. Although you're welcome to hold it in and see if anyone more agreeable turns up."

Clary exhaled, deeply, and breathed in again.

"Wow, you're pretty far gone, aren't you?" Without so much as an invitation, Magnus lifted up the covers around Clary, who by this point had given up caring. "Yeah, you're just about ready to pop," he concluded.

"I am _NOT _a balloon!_"_

"Mr. Herondale, if you wouldn't mind-"

Clary reached out and grabbed his collar. "Jace, Jace! Don't go."

Jace clasped the back of her neck and bruised his lips against her forehead. One hand clasped hers, the other fell to her cheek. He pressed his face against hers so that their noses interlocked.

"Not likely."

Cold, hard pain spread through Clary like wildfire. She crushed Jace's fingers, crying between her teeth, as Magnus fidgeted about under the blankets.

"Are you ready?"

"No," Clary moaned. "I'm really not."

"You have approximately ten seconds," said Magnus, matter-of-factly. "Then I suggest you start to push."

* * *

**A/N: Mwahaha! You thought the baby was going to be born then, didn't you? I am a tricksy one. Clearly more evil than Malock. The next chapter is pretty long, so I wanted to break it down. This is kind of a redundant chapter, but I just couldn't resist the temptation to have panicky Jace and another Midwife Magnus...**

**Still time to bet on the gender!**

**Also, please go listen to "Family Tree" by Matthew West. It's a perfect Jace song and fits very nicely with this fic. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Here we go! **

* * *

Sunlight was streaming through the open windows when Clary came round, feeling as if she'd been split down the centre and her insides scooped out. That didn't seem to matter much, right now, and not just because the pain had been dulled by _iratzes. _Nothing, not pain, not the end of the world, _nothing _mattered, because everything she cared about was right under this roof.

In an armchair by the fire, next to the empty Herondale cradle, sat Jace, with a wriggling infant wrapped in his arms. He was holding her as if she were made of glass, as if he'd never held anything so small and breakable in his life. It wasn't like the way he held Clary, as if she were the one holding him. Neither did he look at his child the way he'd ever looked at her. He looked utterly terrified and completely enraptured at the same time, like a man watching the stars fall from the sky, beautiful and horrifying.

"She can't be that scary, surely?"

Jace looked up as if he'd almost forgotten she existed. "Clary!" in said her name in a breathless whisper, and immediately made to spring up and rush to her side, but stopped the second he inched off the chair and sat back down, staring at the baby as if he wasn't sure she could survive the movement.

"You can bring her over here."

"But what if I drop her-"

"Jace, you can jump off cathedral rooftops without getting a scratch on you. You can can carry a baby."

"But what if-"

"Jace Herondale, _bring me my child._"

Jace nodded, swallowing, and gingerly crept onto the bed, his free hand hovering over the baby protectively. Clary didn't think she had ever seen him so nervous before. She wasn't quite sure she had seen him _nervous._

He carefully rolled her into Clary's waiting arms and sat down beside her, drawing himself as close as he could and peeling back the layers of soft blanket. A perfect little pale face looked up at her, with a soft fuzz of red hair.

"She has my hair," said Clary, a little mournfully.

Jace grinned, and stroked a stray lock away from her face. "She's perfect, Clary."

The baby yawned and opened her eyes. Clary remembered being told, once, that most babies had blue eyes when they were born. She herself had been no exception. This baby, however, stared up at her with eyes of dark amber, deep and glistening.

"She has your eyes."

"I know," said Jace, a little sadly. "I was hoping for yours."

They pressed their heads together, and Jace kissed her cheek forcefully, before both of them turned towards the child held between them. _Their _child, their daughter, their-

"Adeline," Jace breathed.

"What was that?"

"Do you like it?"

"Hmm?"

"Do. You. Like. It?"

"Yes," Clary murmured. "I like it. What does it mean?"

Jace shrugged. "I don't know. I just like it. And it's sort of a family name."

"Oh yes? Did you find it in your family tree?"

"No. Not exactly. Your grandmother's name was Adele," he said, and Clary realised with a jolt that she'd forgotten. "And my mother's name... was Celine. So it fits, although the name itself just wandered into my head. Adie, I think, for short."

"Adeline only when you're mad at her?" Clary grinned.

Jace looked shocked at the very suggestion. "I will never be mad at her," he said. "Ever."

Clary seriously doubted that, but decided not to mention it. There would be years, she suspected, where they could argue about their children. This didn't seem the moment for it. She began to whisper her daughter's name, under her breath, trying to get a feel for it.

"Adeline," she said solidly.

"Adeline Fairchild Herondale."

Clary smiled and tilted her head to kiss him. It was the softest, faintest of kisses, like the stroke of a paintbrush. Jace drew back, smiling, cradling his daughter's head.

"Now, if you two girls are ready, I think there's a lot of people downstairs just dying to meet you..."

* * *

Jace let the visitors in, one small group at a time. First up was Clary's family, with Jocelyn wearing the biggest of smiles as she swept across the room towards her daughter and grandchild, Luke trailing behind with his arms cascading with presents and balloons and a very colourful fruit basket.

"Sweetheart!" Jocelyn's open arms enveloped Clary. She pulled away slightly, stroking back her hair and cradling the infant's head in her free hand. "Oh, my word, she's beautiful..."

Clary smiled and turned back to Luke and Jace helped him unload his gifts.

"God, Luke. What have brought?"

"Just... just a few things I thought you might like... it's mostly all hand-me-downs, honest." He freed himself of the last of the bags. "Now let's see the little one, shall we?" He lifted Fleecy onto the bed and crept towards her himself, pulling the blanket away from her face and exhaling deeply.

"She's a stunner, all right. Just like her grandma."

Jocelyn shot him a smile rarely used by most grandparents, and they squeezed hands over the bed. For once, Fleecy didn't pull a face of disgust, far too riveted on the baby.

"Oh," she sighed, a little disappointedly, "she has your hair, Clary."

"And what's so wrong with that?" Clary asked, pulling Adie closer defensively.

"She's going to be prettier than me."

All the adults in the room started to chuckle, and Luke bent down to sweep her into his arms. "You are just about as pretty as they come, Fleece. All my girls are. Inside and out."

"Daddy, you do talk some nonsense sometimes!" Fleecy put her hands on her hips and sighed, putting on a Jocelyn-voice and shaking her finger at him. "I don't know what we're going to do with you!"

After the Fairchild-Graymarks came the Lightwoods and Simon, Isabelle drifting in like a rain cloud and snatching the baby into her arms before she'd so much as looked at Clary. Declaring she was so glad she had a little niece and couldn't wait to take her shopping, as all her female friends failed spectacularly, her brother wasn't nearly gay enough to shop.

"You better grow up fast, baby-girl!" she said, circling around the room with her.

"Her name is Adeline- Adie," said Clary, scowling.

"And I don't want her ever growing up, ever!" said Jace, and retrieved her from his sister's arms. "If she grows up, she'll have to leave..."

Robert and Maryse stepped forward to give him a humorous talk on diaper-changing and night-time feeds crying that went on for hours and told him he'd soon changed his tune, but the second they got there turn holding her, they both went as soft as putty and started speaking like blithering idiots, pulling crazy faces at a child who looked back at them like they were insane.

Finally, Magnus and Alec were allowed up. While Alec sat with the child in his arms, silently staring at her as if he were close to bursting into tears, Magnus ranting on about how it was absolutely ridiculous they were last up when he himself had delivered her, and how he really was going to start charging them again, until Jace reminded him he was actually the very _first _to lay eyes on the child and they would be honoured if he and Alex would be godparents. It shut him up for at least ten minutes, by which time everyone was allowed into the bedroom together.

Clary couldn't remember the last time they had all been together under one roof, and they all looked so _happy._

_I did that, _her pride swelled. _I made them so happy._

Currently, Adie was in Maryse's arms, being fawned over by the rest of her grandparents. Robert had made a silly comment about her having his nose, and it took a lot of laughing in his face before he realised that wasn't possible.

Isabelle was chatting inanely to Fleecy, who was a little less than happy that everyone thought the baby was cuter than she was when, "it can't even do tricks!" Isabelle was wearing her soppy smile that was only ever reserved for her. She adored Fleecy almost as much as Simon. They had baby-sat for Luke and Jocelyn, entertaining her for hours on end. Even now, Simon was engaging her in a game.

Clary was watching carefully as Adie was passed to "Uncle Magnus" when she noticed someone else in the room, someone who hadn't been there a moment ago, and was peering at her daughter almost quizzically. He caught her gaze, smiled, and wordlessly crept up to her bedside to slip his hand into hers.

"Looks like you did good, Fray."

"You like her?"

"Fleecy may have a rival for my affections."

Clary giggled. "Don't tell her. You'll break her heart."

"That I will never do." Simon's eyes fell to the night stand, to Clary's abandoned sketchpad and the scribbled rune. "What's this?"

Clary shrugged, sighing. "I'm not... I'm not entirely sure. I just had this moment when it seemed like the most important thing in the world. It's just lines to me now though. I can't work it out."

She looked over to her daughter, safely snuggled in the crook of Alec's arm. It was impossible to think, now that she was so surrounded with people who loved her, that she was in any kind of danger, that anyone could ever succeed in hurting her. Maybe, if they were lucky, the incident was just a fluke and nobody else knew about the Child of Angels.

"I think what Malock said, about her being a Rune Maker... I think he was right. I think she has a power that no one had seen before, and I think it's going to change things. Last night, she helped me make this. Hopefully, one day, she'll be able to explain what it means."

Magnus materialised by Clary's side and kissed her hand extravagantly, complimenting the beauty of her newborn. "Luckily, she takes after her father's side, I think. Such fine bone structure..."

"You're too kind, Magnus," said Clary through gritted teeth.

"It has been said. What with all the services I give I you- completely free of charge! My generosity knows no bounds!" he grinned at himself, and then his eyes caught the rune in Simon's hand. "What- what is that?" he asked curiously.

"Dunno. Clary drew it last night."

"May I?"

Simon passed it across. Magnus examined it closely, tilting his head to one side and stroking each line carefully.

"As my old friend Charles Dodgson once said -that's Lewis Carroll to your lesser creatures- _curiouser and curiouser._.."

"You knew Lewis Carroll?" Clary raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"Oh Biscuit, really! Do you think he modelled the Cheshire Cat after an actual _feline_?" he shot them a particularly cat-like grin, his gold-green eyes gleaming.

"So..." said Clary, after an uncomfortable pause. "You were saying?"

"Was I? Ah, yes. It's strange. I have never seen this rune before... not even something _like _it. Do you mind if I borrowed this? I'll see it returned."

Clary nodded slowly. "You'll tell me want you find?"

"Of course!" he stood up, tearing the parchment from the pad and folding it away in his waistcoat pocket. "But you must promise we can steal the little one from you on occasion."

Clary smiled as he went back to Alec. "I promise."

Magnus had barely left her side before Jace was by it, having finally pried Adie from her adoring relatives. Already, he looked more natural than Clary could ever have thought possible.

It was difficult to believe that any kind of power resided in his pink, helpless little baby. Difficult to believe she could ever be more amazing that she was, right now. Clary looked up at Jace, then around at their family, and the beautiful painted walls holding everything she held dear together, safe and sound.

Whatever the future brought, they could deal with it.

Jace freed a hand and squeezed Clary's. She knew, just by looking at him, that he'd overheard the whole exchange. Either that, or he could see through her as if she were made of glass. "Whatever she is, Clary," he said softly, "she's perfect. We are going to all right. We're going to be so happy..."

* * *

**A/N: and THAT was where the old fic ended. HOWEVER, you have a little bit more coming! Including a surprise set of visitors. Who could it be? Hmmmmm?**

**And what do you think will happen next?**

**PS, next chapter is VERY short, so I will upload it today. There is one more proper chapter, and a little epilogue. **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Here you go! Told you I would add this today. Like I said, it's teeny, but I couldn't squeeze it into the previous chapter without it looking a bit weird. (****Takes place immediately after the previous chapter.)**

* * *

Adie had made her way back to Isabelle's arms. Clary would never have guessed Isabelle for the maternal sort, but she was holding Adie so carefully, love lighting up her eyes.

Simon came and sat down beside her, extending a hand to stroke Adie's tiny cheek. Both baby and Isabelle smiled.

"I want one," Isabelle said softly.

"I think we should be married first," said Simon.

Isabelle glared. "Ha ha."

"I'm serious," said Simon, his face perfectly straight, "marry me."

If Isabelle hadn't been holding a baby, Clary was quite sure she would have dropped (or thrown) whatever she was holding.

"What?"

"Marry me," Simon said, his voice losing some of its steadiness, "I mean, er, _please_?"

"_That's _your proposal?" Isabelle hissed, trying to keep her voice down. "Six years of dating and you come out with '_marry me'_over someone else's baby?"

"Er..."

"Did you even think about this before? Why are you saying this now? Do you even have a ring?"

"Yes, I do."

"You... do?" Isabelle's eyebrows arched.

Simon swallowed, and reached with trembling fingers inside his blazer pocket. He drew out a small velvet box.

"I know... I know I'm supposed to give you my family ring," he said, "But... but I don't have one to give you. And I don't want to give you anything I'd expect to get back, so... so I made this for you."

He opened the box. It was small, slight, and silver, vaguely Celtic in design. It was a little like the Lightwood crest, with a tiny L in the centre, spotted with blue stones.

"For Lightwood and for Lewis," he said. "I've thought about this for a while, and I'm saying this now because I'm sick of trying to wait for the right moment. I love you, Isabelle Lightwood. I've loved you every day a little more since we started going out. Whenever I think of life without you... I can't. I can't imagine it. You _are _my life. I don't need runes to bind me to you- I'm yours already. Utterly, completely, totally yours. I know I'm probably not the perfect Shadowhunter you imagined marrying as a kid, but-

"You're perfect," said Isabelle breathlessly. She unhooked a hand from under Adie and bent forward, cupping Simon's cheek. "I can't remember what future I imagined for myself before you," she continued. "You're my future. You're everything."

"Is that a-"

"Yes," she smiled, tears gleaming in her dark eyes, "absolutely, yes."

* * *

**A/N: Enjoy? Don't forget to review!**

**WHO ARE THE MYSTERIOUS VISITORS WHO WILL BE COMING NEXT?**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: SURPRISE VISITORS. Hopefully, this doesn't feel too out of place...**

* * *

For the next few days, friends and relatives flittered in and out of the Herondale manor, bringing gifts and well-wishes, shaking hands and passing the baby around as if she were a glorious treasure to be admired. Despite all the adoring fans, nobody beheld her with as much tenderness and devotion as Jace. Every time she looked at the two of them together, Clary's heart swelled, doubling in size. Hard to believe she could love Jace even more. Hard to believe she still had space for another person at all. Adie fitted inside her heart as neatly as if she were part of it to begin with, more comfortably than she had sat inside of her before.

Slowly, the visits subsided. Jocelyn and Luke returned to New York, along with Magnus and Alec, Isabelle came only every other day, sometimes bringing Simon with her. Robert stopped popping in as often. Whole days passed when it was just the three of them, wrapped tightly in their tiny little bubble.

Jace had left Clary dozing by the fire with the baby in her arms, popping out to re-stock their supplies, when a knock came at the door.

"Come in," said Clary, not troubling to rise. It was probably just Isabelle again.

"Good evening, Clarissa Fairchild."

Clary looked up. Standing in the doorway was Tessa Gray, along with her husband, Jem- the man who had once been Brother Zachariah. They had never visited the Herondale Manor before. Clary hadn't seen them since her wedding. She added them as and afterthought -they'd invited them to their wedding, after all- and they had stood at the back, smiling enigmatically.

"Oh," Clary said, startled by the unexpected guests, "I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

Tessa raised her hand. "Please," she said, "don't rise. I didn't mean to startle you."

The two of them came over towards the fire. Tessa sat, Jem standing stalwartly behind her side, a warm and present ghost.

"Is Jace here?" Tessa asked.

Clary shook her head. "He's out. Diaper run."

Tessa smiled warmly. "The little one keeping you busy?"

"Only a lot."

Tessa's smile grew distant. "I remember."

"You... remember?" Clary frowned. It was not the first time Tessa had said something that made Clary think she might have had children, but she knew she was mistaken. Warlocks couldn't have children. "Forgive me, but... warlocks... did you adopt?"

"I had children once," she said.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Tessa softly. "They lived long lives. Just not as long as mine."

"I thought warlocks couldn't have children?"

Tessa looked at Jem, who gripped her shoulder.

"I'm not like normal warlocks," she said quietly. She held out her hands to Clary and the baby. "May I?" she asked.

Clary carefully passed her over. Tessa took her expertly, cradling her loose form in her hands, bringing her close to her chest. Tessa swallowed, and for a minute, Clary imagined she might cry.

"Magnus told me about the Rune," Tessa said. "He wanted my opinion on it. We still haven't managed to decipher it yet, but one thing is clear- it does not exist. Or, more precisely, it hasn't until now."

_The maker of runes. _

Clary felt a lump rise in her throat. "She truly is a runemaker, then."

Tessa nodded. "So it appears."

Clary had no control over what happened to her face, no idea about what she looked like, but seconds later, Jem was speaking to her as if he'd read her mind.

"Nothing will happen to your daughter, Clary. Have no fear."

"How... how can you be sure?"

Tessa smiled weakly. "She has you, for one. And Jace for a father."

Clary was used to this, the way she spoke about Jace as if she knew him, but that did not seem to matter at the moment. "But... but what if something happens to us? We could try and avoid demons altogether for the rest of our lives, and still they'd be no guarantee that we wouldn't be hit by a car, or struck by lightning or..." She wasn't used to this, this new-found, unexplicable fear that accompanied being a parent, the awful, eclipsing worry that she could leave this child alone, without a mother, without a father. She looked up at Tessa and Jem, whose faces had gone grey and steely, and realised they had some experience there.

Tessa reached over and grabbed Clary's shaking hand. "Your daughter will never be alone," she said, her voice both soft and firm. "If something should happen to you, there are countless others willing to step up. Your _parabatai, _the Lightwoods, your parents, Magnus... and me."

"You?"

"I have... an interest in her," said Tessa.

"An... interest?"

Tessa nodded. "For multiple reasons. Both selfish."

"Your... interested in her powers?" Clary struggled against the urge to reach forward, snatch Adie from her, and scream for Jace while searching for a weapon.

"Partly," said Tessa, with great honesty, "it's possible she might be the key to ending my immortality. But do not worry. I shall force nothing upon her. I could no sooner hurt her than my own."

She looked down at Adie. She gurgled, fussing slightly, and opened her eyes.

Tessa let out a gentle cry.

"What?" said Clary, inching forward anxiously, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Tessa quickly, "It's just... her eyes. My firstborn had eyes like hers."

"Like Jace's?"

Tessa looked up at Jem, who nodded silently, recalling some old conversation they'd had.

"More like... Jace has my son's eyes," she said.

"I don't follow."

"In... in another life, or in this one, a very long time ago, I was known as Theresa Herondale," she said. "I am Jace's great-great-great grandmother."

Clary stood up. "Wait, what?"

"I'm Jace's-"

"I heard that part. Why... why are you saying this? Why are you saying this _now?_"

Tessa stood up. She handed Adie back to Clary and turned towards the fireplace.

"It is no easy thing, to live as long as I have," she said. "I thought when I lost my first husband, that was the worst I should ever feel. I distanced myself from his remaining family, hoping to lessen the loss when they inevitably followed him, but... losing my children was worse. Then my grandchildren... no more, after that. I kept company more or less only with immortals. I retreated to the Spiral Labyrinth. I tried not to hear about any of my descendants. When Magnus told me that the last of the Herondale had been found, I had to come and see-"

"You were at that party," said Clary, "after Valentine was defeated."

Tessa nodded. "That was enough. I hated to be reminded of the family no longer mine."

"Jace could have done with a family-"

"He had you," said Tessa quickly, "he had the Lightwoods. He has this little one, now."

"Then why tell me at all?"

Tessa shrugged, and turned back to Jem. "I am married to a mortal again," she said. "I cannot hide. Especially not when..."

She lost her voice, turning immediately to Jem and into his arms. Clary had never seen Tessa lose her cool before, not for a moment.

"Tessa is having baby," Jem said quietly, rubbing her back. "_We're _having a baby."

"Congratulations," said Clary, although Tessa looked more worried than she had done when she found she was expecting. Jem looked as proud as possible. The only sadness in his eyes was there for Tessa's sake, not his. What must it be like, Clary wondered, to become a father after over a hundred years of loneliness?

"T-thank you," said Tessa, her voice catching, "It's... it's just been so long. So unexpected. Being what I am... it was never likely in the first place. You just... I hope you never have to know what it's like, to outlive your children."

Clary gripped Adie closely. If anything happened to her, only a void would exist where Clary's life used to be. She was the pin that held her world together. Her sympathy for Tessa increased.

"Now I have to do it all again," she continued. She looked up at Jem. "All over again."

It occurred to Clary that she wasn't just talking about outliving her children. She was talking about outliving Jem.

Immortality really was a curse.

Tessa swallowed. "I did not mean to impress this all on you," she said, "just seeing the child... it all came out."

"I'm glad you told me," Clary said. "Don't go. Stay until Jace gets back. I know you said that he doesn't need you, and you're certainly right that he already has a family, but stay. Tell him. He only has one blood relative in the entire world, and she's ten days old. It would be nice for him to have one he can talk to. Stay."

The front door clicked open.

"Clary?" Jace stepped across the threshold, "what's going on?"

Jem clung tightly to Tessa's hand. "I think," he said, "we have some explaining to do."

* * *

**A/N: DID YOU SEE THAT COMING?**

**Next chapter is the epilogue. Fair warning, it involves a lot of babies. **


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: And here we have, folks, the very last chapter. Please enjoy.**

* * *

Three months later, Simon and Isabelle married. For the next year or so, their lives continued much as before, with Isabelle jetting off to some far-flung corner of the Earth every few weeks, and Simon waiting patiently behind. She made an effort to keep the trips as short and as infrequent as possible, and Simon always made sure to make a big deal of welcoming her home.

Then, less than two years into their marriage, Isabelle gave birth to a son. He had brown eyes, and a mop of dark hair. They called him Max, of course, and Isabelle never went away again. Her life revolved around him. She lived and breathed her child, and surprised everyone by turning overnight into supermom- although she still wore heels as she ran around the house.

Despite Clary's instance that Jace never, ever get her pregnant again -a request perhaps born in fear of what other powers their children could possess- two months after Max was born came his cousin, Henry, a beautiful boy with Clary's bright green eyes and Jace's hair. From an early age, he was much quieter than his sister, but he learnt to walk as soon as possible just to run around after her. They were rarely apart before one would seek out the other, Henry following Adie into mischief.

She drew runes from the moment she could hold a crayon. For a long time, Clary would freak every time she saw one, folding it away and sending it to Magnus and Tessa for analysis, but they were never decipherable. Eventually, she stopped worrying. Adie's powers -and Henry's- would become clear in time. She wasn't going to miss them growing up in the meanwhile.

Max fit in perfectly with the two of them, and whenever they were all in the same room -frequently- they would play around like puppies. Adie always got into less trouble when Max was around, as if her rumbustious behaviour was finally balanced by the two precocious toddlers that followed her everywhere.

Time passed. Alec and Magnus married, which surprised no one, and there was even talk of them adopting a warlock child together. "As soon as an attractive one presents itself" Magnus would say. "Somebody really ought to set up an agency." Adie, Max and Henry were soon joined by Liora. Isabelle and Simon's daughter, who looked so much like her brother that in a few years, people would be thinking they were twins.

There were times when Isabelle made one of her rare trips out of Idris, and Jace was off as well, that Simon would bring the children over to the Manor and let them play until they literally fell asleep in a pile. He and Clary would move the older ones upstairs to the nursery, and then tip-toe back down to watch sci-fi and chat about old times, nothing changed but the sleeping infant in Simon's arms. For years, Clary rarely saw him without a baby nestled about his person, hers or his. Then again, Jace wasn't much better. No matter how much they cried, or how tired he was, he never lost his temper, even if he came to bed to exhausted to pull of his clothes. Clary always had to be bad cop. If he ever referred to them as "little terrors" he was being untruthful. Jace _adored _those children.

"This is the nearest I come to remembering what life was like before I had them," she admitted to Simon one evening, while he was bottle-feeding Liora, the others asleep upstairs.

Simon grinned wearily. "Parenthood is weird," he said.

"You can say that again. All that stuff before -that really serious, life-threatening stuff-"

"Doesn't seem to matter any more?"

"Yup." Clary wished she had both her babies sleeping in her arms at that moment. "It's like my life began when I had them. I'm a walking ball of parental clichés."

"And you wouldn't change it for the world."

A few minutes later, the other children appeared at the foot of the stars. They toddled over towards the couch, squeezing in between the adults, utterly uncaring as to where their limbs were going or which person they were clinging to. Clary ended up with Adie and Max, while Henry was crammed into the tiny space between Simon's legs and Max's.

Simon leaned across at Clary and beamed. "Life is weird," he said.

* * *

Five years later, Tessa and Jem stood outside the Herondale Manor. It was Adeline Herondale's fifth birthday. Clary and Jace were having a party for her. Jocelyn and Fleecy were setting up the table, Jace and Luke stringing banners on the trees, while Adie ran around the garden in paint-splattered dungarees, following by her brother and little Max Lightwood. Isabelle was sitting in the shade with Liora bouncing on her lap, her dark hair being pulled into pigtails. Alec and Magnus arrived, carrying the largest birthday present imaginable.

There was a tug on Tessa's skirt.

"Why are we waiting, Mommy?"

William Carstairs, four years old, scowled at her with slanted eyes. His father grinned, picked him up, and took Tessa's hand.

"Yes, why are we waiting, Mommy?"

"I'm having a strange sense of deja vu," she said, "I've been here before, among Lightwoods and Fairchilds and Herondales. I didn't think to be here again."

She had been there, through the years, in the background at each wedding, quietly in the corner at each naming. She did not like to wander long. If she stayed too long, it felt like she would stick, and it would hurt to pull away.

True to her word, she had told Jace her past, about his family. _Her _family. She had seen them more often. Just not too often. Not too often to feel like a fixture. Not until she was sure she could handle it, staying with them till the end.

Tessa's eyes wandered to Adie and her brother, who were scribbling things in the sand pit. She had kept her eye on Adie in particular, through the years. Keeping her safe from others who had heard what Malock had, and keeping her close just in case... in case she held something that could help Tessa.

She could be patient. She could wait until the end of time, but one day she was going to follow Jem and Will, and all the others. One day she would not be left behind.

But that was the future, and Tessa's present was bright and warm, and worth whatever price she'd have to pay. She was a mother again -well, she'd always been a mother, although having a child made a beautiful difference- and that was worth everything.

"Come on," said Jem, squeezing her hand tightly, "everyone's here."

A still summer breeze passed through the garden. This had been her son's home, once upon a time. She watched her grandchildren play in the garden, Will by her side. Her nieces and nephews had been here, their children too.

A breeze turned to a wind.

"Mommy!" Will said indignantly.

_With Will by her side. _

Tessa smiled as the sun came out again, watching Jace Herondale swing both children into his arms, watching Isabelle Lightwood fuss with her toddler's hair, Alec and Magnus smiling fondly at them. She watched this new generation unfold, listen to the soft chant of the wind, and realised Jem was right.

_Everyone's here._

* * *

**A/N: ...and that was all she wrote.**

**Thank you all for your fabulous reviews during the writing of this story. It's meant a lot to me! I hope you enjoyed it. **

**The name "Liora" if anyone is interested, means "gift of light" and is Hebrew in origin. It seemed to fit. Henry is named after Henry Branwell; in my headcanon Tessa was telling Clary about her ancestors when Clary was pregnant with her second child, and the name clicked. **

**Please, if you've enjoyed reading this, head over to fictionpress and review my original work! Same name- just search Kitty Thomas!**

**Over and out. **


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